


Stuck Points

by BlueTwilight



Series: Still Counting [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Disabled Character, Disabled Reader, Disturbing Themes, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Frisk, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Player-Insert, Post-Pacifist Route, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, Selectively Mute Frisk, Self-Harm, Sign Language, Suggestive Themes, nonbinary chara, nonbinary reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTwilight/pseuds/BlueTwilight
Summary: As a bonus fic to the main story, Stuck Points follows the characters from Still Counting through various moments in time as they piece their lives together and work on turning "okay" into "good."





	1. Session #1 - Hello, Partner

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING! If you have not read the main trilogy of this series ("Tally Up Your Sins," "Count Your Blessings," and "Take a Recount"), stop right here! Go read those first!!!
> 
> Stuck Points is a bonus fic so, if you are fond of definitive endings, you might not want to read this one. It may or may not have a strong ending... I'm just going to write it until I get tired of it. I don't consider this fic to be part of the main story, even though it is canon to the Still Counting universe.
> 
> Remember how I warned you at the beginning of TUYS that it was going to be a very self-indulgent fic? Yeah, Stuck Points will be even more so XD Throughout Still Counting, I tried very hard to keep the main character a true reader-insert, keeping their identity as ambiguous as possible. You have no idea how hard it was to go so long without ever naming the main goddamn character. Now, though, I'm giving myself free reign to give as many details about the MC as I think are necessary to the narrative. This includes their name, gender, details about their appearance, etc. If this makes them more of an OC than a reader-insert, then so be it. I will still be writing in second-person past tense, though. Check out the end notes of this first chapter if you want to see some art I commissioned of the reader-insert-turned-OC :3
> 
> With that all out of the way, enjoy these extra scenes! There is some structure to this fic... More than I was planning on when I first had the idea of a bonus fic. So you could say there is a bit of a plot, though it's not as high-stakes as the main series. Hopefully it's entertaining, anyway!

**June 22nd, 2020**

***

"Reed?"

You looked up. A lady with a clipboard was looking at you expectantly; you were the only person in the waiting room, after all. You tried to force a smile as you stood up and walked across the room to her.

"Hi," you greeted, too nervous to wait for her to say something first. 

"Hi, how are you?" Although the question was standard small talk fare, you thought the answer should've been obvious given the setting. You grinned ruefully, but kept up the facade nonetheless.

"Good."

By the time that brief exchange was over, your escort was already gesturing to an empty room.

"You'll be in here... Shelly is just finishing up with another patient, but she'll be with you shortly."

"Okay... Thanks," you said begrudgingly, a little taken aback by the usage of the doctor's first name. Was that normal? Were you supposed to call her that, too?

You didn't ask either of those questions, but instead wandered into the room and let the door swing shut behind you. You flinched, even though the sound of it clicking closed hadn't been particularly loud. You didn't like being closed into an unfamiliar room, and the lack of windows in here didn't help. As a result, the lighting was slightly dim even though it was the middle of the day. Two lamps, one at a desk and one at an end table, illuminated the sparsely decorated room. There was a long, brown couch, a fake potted plant, and a bookshelf. Aside from the small desk and office chair, that was about it as far as furniture went. The only thing that made the room even slightly interesting was a large painting hung on the wall behind the couch. It was some kind of abstract art. Thick globs of neutral-colored paint had been brushed seemingly randomly across the canvas. You had no idea what it was supposed to resemble, if anything.

Without realizing you were doing it, you edged along the outside of the room, keeping your back to the wall. You figured you were supposed to sit on the couch, so that was what you did. You chose to sit as close to the corner of the room as you could get, giving you a good view of the door. Even so, you were highly anxious as you rolled your cane around between your hands. You didn't know what to expect, and you were starting to regret agreeing to this.

A knock on the door gave you little warning before it was opened. A petite, blonde woman who looked to be only slightly younger than your parents entered. A big, warm smile lit up her face when she caught sight of you, which put you more at ease. 

"Hi! Reed, right? I'm Dr. Shelly Tomczyk, but you can just call me Shelly." She scurried over to you and angled her hand down so you wouldn't have to get up. You shook it with a hesitant smile of your own.

"Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you."

"You too!" She backed up and pulled out her office chair, brining it a bit closer to you on the couch. She leaned back and grabbed some scattered papers from off of her desk before asking, "So, what brings you here today?"

You blinked at her, dumbfounded. She already knew why you were here... You were certain of that. Reives had been here to vet her and even made her sign some pretty intimidating confidentiality agreements. Was she really going to make you explain it to her, yourself? It sure seemed that way, as she continued to stare at you with a kind, but anticipatory expression.

"Um... I have some... issues..." you said lamely. Your cheeks were already hot, and you couldn't meet Shelly's eyes anymore. It had only just started, and you already weren't comfortable with this at all. You weren't sure if you were going to make it through this first session, let alone however many more you had to come to.

"Such as?" Shelly pressed. You continued spinning your cane around between your sweaty palms.

"Such as... Like, just now, when that door closed behind me. I thought... I dunno. I felt like I was trapped even though, logically, I know I could leave if I want to. There's a lot of weird stuff like that... I probably couldn't even list all of the issues right now if I wanted to."

"Give it a try," She encouraged you while writing something down on a piece of paper. You laughed nervously and scratched the back of your neck.

"Okay, um... Zoning out, that's a big one. Dissociation, I think is what you call it." You paused to watch her write that down. When she looked back up at you expectantly, you continued, "And... Nightmares. Panic attacks. Hallucinations, sometimes." You shifted back and forth in your seat, examining the bookshelf rather than looking at the therapist. When you couldn't think of anything else, you mumbled, "I guess that's it."

"How long have you had these issues?" she asked in a neutral tone of voice. 

"A little over a year. Since April of last year."

"And what happened in April of last year?"

You flinched violently. You let go of your cane, pinning it between your knees as you bowed your head and clutched the back of your neck with both hands. This whole therapy thing had been a bad idea. You couldn't even _think_ about it... How the fuck were you supposed to talk about what happened when you couldn't even be reminded of the date without having a nervous breakdown? 

But what else could you do? Time wasn't healing you. You had to try _something,_ or else be resigned to being like this forever. You didn't want that... You wanted to get better. More than that, you wanted to be "good." Whatever that entailed.

"I... I was... I don't know..." you whined, distressed. Of course, you _did_ know, you just didn't know how to begin saying it. 

You were distracted from your turmoil by a clipboard appearing in front of you. You looked up through watery eyes to see Shelly leaning forward to hand it to you. You took it from her numbly. 

"That's okay. You don't have to talk about it just yet." Relief washed over you. Your tense shoulders slumped. You sniffed and wiped your eyes with both hands. Shelly tapped the paper on the clipboard with a perfectly manicured nail. "I'd like you to go through this brief assessment for me. The results will help me decide what kind of treatment to use. You don't have to answer the first question if you don't feel comfortable, but I'll ask that you try to answer everything else. Do you think you can do that?" You looked up at her briefly to see her encouraging smile, then said in a slightly raspy voice,

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Let me know when you're done."

With that, Shelly rolled her chair away and turned her back on you to type something up on her computer. You watched her for a second, wishing the font size on her document was bigger so you could read whatever she was writing from across the room. Instead, though, you turned your attention back to the clipboard on your lap and got to work.

The very first sentence of the instructions at the top of the page made you squirm. 

This questionnaire asks about problems you may have had after a very stressful experience involving actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence.

The instructions then went on to give examples, none of which applied to your unique situation. You wondered, not for the first time, if this therapy stuff would even work on you. This was meant for war veterans and rape survivors, not... Whatever you were. You didn't feel like you really belonged here.

Oddly, that feeling of otherness was what helped you complete the two-page worksheet without feeling overwhelmed by it. You felt detached as you checked off boxes that gently guided you though categorizing what had happened last year without describing it in any detail. You understood immediately why Shelly had told you to skip the first question; you weren't up to "briefly identifying the worst event." You almost laughed at the fact that the worksheet only gave you one line on the paper to do so, but otherwise steadfastly ignored the question altogether.

The next page was more about your symptoms than the "event," which was easier for you to wrap your head around. You easily answered most of the likert scale questions. The only one you had trouble with was number 10. 

In the past month, how much did you blame yourself or someone else for the stressful experience or what happened after it?

...Did you blame anyone? You weren't sure. Most of the time, you actively tried not to think about who was at fault. Rather than going down that rabbit hole now, you went with the most neutral answer and moved onto the next question.

After handing the completed worksheet back to Shelly, you went back to rolling your cane between your hands as you waited for her to count up your scores. When she finished, she glanced up at you, jotted something down on her own notes, and finally asked,

"What do you know about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Reed?"

The distant hope that maybe you didn't really belong in a shrink's office was summarily stomped. She wouldn't have asked you that if she didn't think you had it. 

"It's like... When something bad happens to you and you can't get over it," you answered bluntly. Your explanation was none too kind to yourself, which was probably why Shelly frowned at you.

"That's one way to put it, I guess. We call that 'something bad' a traumatic event. Of course, everyone has bad things happen to them at some point... But sometimes, something so traumatic happens that our brains don't know how to deal with it. This can cause a whole host of problems, like anxiety, nightmares, and flashbacks to the traumatic event. That sounds a lot like what you were describing to me earlier... Wouldn't you say?"

You couldn't look at Shelly as she talked, instead going back to staring at the bookshelf as your face grew hotter and hotter. If it was just a problem with your brain that you had no control over, then why did you feel so embarrassed? You hated this... You felt incredibly uncomfortable.

"Yeah," you agreed reluctantly. You hadn't really needed a doctor to tell you any of that. You were familiar enough with PTSD from your studies in college to know that you probably had it. Still, you'd been hoping she'd say you just had regular old anxiety or depression... Something she could give you a prescription for and you'd be on your merry way. You had a feeling this was going to be a lot more complicated than that.

Shelly reached behind her and grabbed a piece of paper from her desk to hand to you.

"I want to start you on something called Cognitive Processing Therapy," she said as you took the paper from her and scanned over it. "This sheet explains the therapy and its goals. Ultimately, we want to get you to a point where your symptoms aren't affecting your day-to-day life anymore. Does that sound like a good goal to you?"

You thought about that for a moment. It seemed like a far-off dream... After over a year of dealing with this, you found it hard to believe that you could ever get to a point where you could go a whole day without feeling trapped, anxious, or fearful. 

"That would be... good," you said. As much as you doubted it was possible, you desperately wanted to get better. Dealing with this all of the time was exhausting... And that was to say nothing of the pressure you felt from your friends. Not that they weren't supportive, but you felt terrible being such a burden on them. Especially now that you were dating Sans again...

You never would've admitted it out loud, but he was a big reason you'd finally dragged yourself to therapy, to begin with. You didn't want him to have to deal with you being this way. You didn't want things to go the same way they had last time. You needed to change if you wanted to avoid another catastrophe like that.

Of course, you hadn't told Sans that. He didn't even know you were here. You didn't want to make him feel more guilty for what happened last year. This was your issue to fix... Not his.

"Good," Shelly said with a smile, breaking you out of your thoughts. "It's a twelve week program... That might seem like a long time, but it's important that you commit to attending every session and doing the homework in between. Do you think you can manage that?"

You bit your lip. Three whole months was a big commitment. And you hadn't been expecting homework. But if that was what it was going to take...

"Yes," you said determinedly. If you were going to try this, then you couldn't half-ass it. You would come to every session and do every assignment. Shelly pointed at a line on the bottom of the page.

"Then sign and date here. This isn't legally binding, or anything... It's just a promise between the two of us that we'll both try our best to see this through." 

Even though it was a little corny, the "we" word choice kind of worked on you. You were comforted by the implication that you and Shelly would be in it together. Despite your history with promises and your reluctance to make any new ones, you signed the bottom of the document decisively. Shelly took the clipboard and signed her own name below yours. 

"There!" she said as she finished her signature with a flourish. "I'm glad we could agree on that. Just coming here and committing to the treatment is a big first step."

You hummed in noncommittal agreement, then rubbed the back of your neck. Now there was yet another person who you would be letting down should you fail. Great.

Undeterred by your lack of enthusiasm, Shelly turned her chair around to make a copy of the signed agreement with the printer on her desk. She handed you the original, while filing away the copy for herself. Next, she passed you another small stack of papers. You glanced at the top one, which was titled "Stuck Points - What Are They?" Before you could read any further, Shelly started explaining,

"This therapy relies heavily on the concept of stuck points. Basically, we're going to be focusing on how your current way of thinking is getting in the way of recovering from your traumatic event. These maladaptive thoughts are called 'stuck points' because they keep you 'stuck' in the past. They create barriers to your recovery." Upon seeing your blank look, Shelly opened one of her desk drawers and took out a small dry erase board and marker. She pulled the cap off with a satisfying _pop!_ and handed both the marker and the board to you. You hastened to set the stack of papers down on the couch beside you before taking the proffered items.

"Let's do an example," Shelly said as you settled the board on your lap. "Before you came to therapy today, you probably had some negative thoughts that were holding you back. I want you to write one of them down on the board."

You pursed your lips. There were so many things you could've written down that you had trouble choosing. Eventually, you settled on one and scribbled it down in your small, sloppy handwriting at the top of the board. When you were done, Shelly craned her neck to see what you'd written.

Therapy won't work for my specific problems.

Truthfully, you were still kind of thinking that might be the case. You'd thought it before, but what if this CPT business just didn't work for your rather unusual circumstance? Your "traumatic event," if Shelly wanted to call it that, was way outside of the bounds of normalcy. You weren't even sure she would believe you, if you ever did get to the point where you could talk about it...

"That's not an uncommon thought to have," Shelly pointed out, surprising you. "But you must've gotten past it somehow, or else you wouldn't be here. What made you decide to come, anyway?" You tapped the cap of the marker against the board, thoughtful. After a minute, you admitted,

"Well, I'm still not convinced it'll work, but... I have to try. I'm... tired of living like this." You rubbed your brow anxiously. Shelly nodded sympathetically. 

"That's as good a reason as any. Can you see how that thought moved you forward, past your stuck point?" She tapped the statement you'd written on the board for emphasis. "Our goal in therapy is to give you the tools to move past your other stuck points in the same way. Once you start changing your stuck points to healthier, more realistic beliefs, your other symptoms should improve on their own."

You stared down at the whiteboard, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It seemed far-fetched that something as simple as thinking more positive thoughts would stop the panic attacks, hallucinations, and dissociative episodes. But she was the expert, and you were willing to try just about anything.

"Okay," you said, your voice sounding smaller than you would've liked. Shelly looked at her watch and sounded genuinely disappointed as she pointed out,

"Oh, we're almost out of time. Here, I'll take some of these back for now... We can look at them next week." She carded through the pile of papers you'd discarded on the couch and took back a few of them. She handed you the remainder. "For next time, I just want you to read these two handouts on PTSD and stuck points and do the first practice assignment... The instructions are on the last page." 

"Okay, thanks," you said, though you weren't sure why you were thanking her for giving you more work.

"Do you have any last-minute questions for me?" Shelly asked with a smile. You took that as your cue to start leaving. You used your cane to ease up onto your feet, your knees creaking in protest. 

"No, I don't think so." The therapist stood after you, tossing the rejected papers back onto her cluttered desk. 

"Then I'll see you next week! It was nice talking to you."

"You too."

With that, you left the dimly lit office, blinking heavily a few times as you reemerged into the bright light of the waiting room. The receptionist bid you farewell, which you returned half-heartedly as you walked out the door. 

Your eyes cast around the parking lot for a second before you remembered that your car wasn't here. You snorted to yourself, then veered sharply left and started walking around the side of the building. As you went, you fiddled with the papers you'd been given, struggling to fold them into small enough rectangles that would fit in your pocket. By the time you managed to stuff them into your jeans, you'd made it around to the back of the clinic. You stopped, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and stepped forward to disappear through the shortcut you'd made yourself a little over an hour earlier.

You ended up in your bedroom, which had become a sort of shortcut hub. You tried to limit yourself on the number of shortcuts you made; they were permanent, after all. You didn't take that lightly. But they were so convenient that you couldn't help creating one every now and then just to make your life that much easier. You had one to your parent's house, one to Undyne's training facility, and one to the True Lab, just to name a few. Now, you had one to your therapist's clinic, too. 

Before you could get your bearings, a voice called out to you from the living room,

"Hey, Reed."

You spun around, a smile already on your face. Sans was lounging on the couch, leaning sideways off of it to get a better look into your bedroom. He was grinning back at you stupidly. It was a little silly, but you tended to give each other googly eyes like this a lot in the two weeks since you got back to dating. You couldn't help it... He made you feel like a teenager again. You knew it didn't make sense, but your relationship with him felt fresh and new, despite the fact that it was anything but. The two of you had agreed after that fateful first date to go back to taking it slow. Partially because you both wanted to make sure you were doing the right thing by getting back together. But, at least in your case, you mostly just wanted to savor the new relationship feeling while it lasted. You'd never really gotten that with him before, and you were enjoying it now. The dance, as it were, had become less of an obligation and more of a playful game.

"Hi, Sans."

The moment was ruined when a spatula came soaring out of the kitchen and bonked Sans on the head. You doubled over with laughter, leaning over your cane with mirth as Sans yelped and rubbed his skull.

"OI! ARE YOU GONNA GET OFF YOUR ASS AND HELP, OR WHAT???" Undyne shouted from somewhere out of sight. Still wincing, Sans gestured to you and, as though it were an excuse, pointed out,

"Reed's here." 

"GOOD! THEY CAN HELP TOO!!!" 

You peeked around your doorway to see what was going on in the kitchen. Undyne and Papyrus seemed to have made a real mess of things... So much so that you couldn't tell what they were trying to cook. Papyrus, who was wearing an apron and oven mitts, whirled around and said accusingly,

"Sibling! Where have you been??? We are hosting the royal family tonight, and we need all hands on deck!!!"

"I wasn't aware of this," you mumbled, dodging the question. Only Asgore, Reives, and Charlie knew about your therapy so far, and you wanted to keep it that way for now. "The, uh... _entire_ royal family?"

"Yes! Now both of you stop being lazy and get in here!!!"

With some difficulty, you dragged Sans into the kitchen, though you suspected he was only putting up such a fight so that you'd be forced to sling your arm under his ribs and haul him with you. As revenge, you made sure to wiggle your fingers in the nook between his last rib and his vertebrae, which you knew to be a ticklish spot. Even with a layer of clothes between your fingers and his bone, he was still wheezing with uncontrollable laughter by the time you shoved him between Undyne and Papyrus at the counter. 

Really, four cooks in the kitchen ended up being far too many, especially for a meal as simple as casserole. With you and Sans goofing off most of the time, Papyrus was quick to retract his demand for help and banished you both back to the living room. Instead, the two of you worked on finding enough chairs for the dining table. When it became clear that there was no way ten people were going to fit, you had to drag Sans and Papyrus' dining table through a shortcut to make a kid's table in the living room.

Throughout all of this, there was a persistent, nervous flutter in your stomach. You expected to hear a knock at the door at any moment, but it never came. Instead, you received a text from Toriel.

_Hello, dear. Could you come and get us from the lab, please?_

Ah, right. You'd forgotten about that. For a second, you debated whether to pass that responsibility onto Sans or not, but Toriel had asked you, specifically. Maybe it was nothing, but maybe there was some reason for it. You didn't bother texting Toriel back, and simply announced to whoever was listening,

"Gonna go get everyone, be right back."

Sans shot you a thumbs up, though he seemed to have been the only one who heard. Papyrus and Undyne were making an awful ruckus in the kitchen as they debated over how to set the table. Unwilling to interrupt them, you ducked into your room and slid silently through the shortcut you'd made ages ago to the True Lab.

Your portal took you directly to the bedroom, where four figures were lounging around on the beds, chatting. Toriel was leaning over to show Asgore something on her phone, while Frisk sat cross-legged, texting someone on their own device. A potted flower was nestled on their lap. He was the first to catch sight of you. 

"Finally!" he complained, nudging Frisk with a leaf to get their attention. "I'm starving... And sick of this dumb lab!"

Frisk looked up from their phone to smile and wave at you. You waved back at them, then addressed the flower,

"Nice to see you, too, Asriel."

The flower, who insisted on everyone using their birth name nowadays, had otherwise not changed all that much since regaining a portion of his soul. Not that you'd been around him that much to be able to tell. It had only been a week since the procedure, and you'd seen him only twice since then. The newly-whole family had spent almost all of the past week alone together, and you couldn't blame them. 

"Ah, I am glad you came." The bed creaked as Asgore turned around on it to face you. "Dr. Alphys requires your assistance before we can leave. She said it should only take a moment." Asriel groaned, presumably because "a moment" was too long in his opinion. You didn't stick around to listen to him complain, though.

"Sure thing," you said as you crossed the room, ducking around the corner to start down the hallway.

As you got closer to the DTEM's room, you started to hear murmuring voices carrying through the cracked-open door. You couldn't make out what they were saying until you were nearly there.

"...J-just think we should m-make sure..."

"I feel fine, I assure you."

"Still, it's... um... N-not a normal situation..."

"Asriel's not normal either, and I do not see anyone fussing over him this much."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt once you pushed the door open. It swung inward to reveal the main room of the lab, still in pristine condition even a year after Orion took the initiative to organize it. Alphys had her back to you, and had to look over her shoulder to watch your entrance. In front of her sat a child on a moveable, metal table, their fractured soul hovering in front of their chest. They stared at you with a frown, their pale, blue eyes seeming to pierce right through you.

"Hello, partner."

"Will you ever stop calling me that?" you mumbled crossly. To Alphys, you asked, "Asgore said you needed me..." 

Even as you spoke to the Royal Scientist, you couldn't keep your eyes off of Chara's soul for very long. Its red glow was fainter than that of Frisk's, but still definitely present. What disturbed you the most about it was its lack of shape. Instead of being a heart, it was a formless wisp... It looked far too similar to the streaks of color that had been freed from the void so long ago. The familiarity made you wonder certain things about the human soul, and whether you could've done more for those people. Could've saved their lives somehow, like you'd saved this child...

"Y-yes," Alphys interrupted your thoughts, "I thought m-maybe you should examine Chara one more time... M-make sure their body's still doing well..."

"Sure." You shrugged. You'd taken a look at the kid a couple times before, but not for at least a few days. It was kind of sad that you were the closest thing Chara was going to get to a human doctor, but you'd been doing your best. From your previous examinations, it had seemed to you like they were pretty healthy, but you supposed it wouldn't hurt to check again. 

Chara rolled their eyes, but didn't protest as you approached. They raised their hand to push their soul back into their chest; an act which was a little more difficult than it should've been. The crimson wisp seemed like it would've preferred to fly away rather than be stuffed into their body, but they forced it back in there nonetheless.

From the shelf under the table Chara was sitting on, you procured several tools, including a heart rate monitor. The very same one you'd once used on your own body. Now, you strapped it to Chara's index finger, which they held out to you impassively. When you turned it on, it began to beat out a regular rhythm. 

While that did its thing, you moved to Chara's other arm and attached a blood pressure cuff. You situated one end of the stethoscope on your ears while the other went over the kid's brachial artery. It took you a moment to find it but, once you did, you inflated the cuff and watched the gauge as it fell. You heard the first _thump_ at 130, and the last at 80. Seemed normal... Which was good, because, although you knew how to take someone's blood pressure, you had no idea what to do if it was too high or low. 

Gingerly, you sat down on the table next to Chara and reached behind them to press the stethoscope to their back. Already knowing the drill, they took deep breaths for you so you could listen to their lungs. You heard a quiet whistle with each exhale, but you'd been expecting that. The kid whose body Chara was using used to have asthma. It seemed that condition had carried over, even in death.

"We need to get you an inhaler, or something," you muttered, mostly to yourself. Chara clicked their tongue, but otherwise said nothing.

When you finished performing all of the basic vital sign checks you'd been taught in your pre-med physiology class, you stood back up from the table and reported,

"Seems normal as far as I can tell." You looked Chara over with a critical eye. Their skin looked very pale, though you were starting to think that was just their normal complexion. Other than the slight wheezing, they still appeared to be fine. Still, you asked, "You're not feeling sore anywhere? Or more tired than usual?"

"No. Not everyone is defective, like you."

You frowned and clenched your cane a little tighter, but didn't deign that with a response. Chara was a perfect angel when their parents were around, but they were always right back to being an arrogant little shit whenever they could get away with it.

Still, you were glad they weren't hurting, if only because it meant you'd done a good job. It was a week out from their reincarnation, and Chara wasn't showing any signs that their new body was deteriorating. The key difference between you and them was that Chara's body hadn't required necromancy to be revived. Healing magic had been enough to get the body back in working order. You didn't think they were going to be dependant on anyone for constant healing, as you had been before Gaster...

Your breath caught as you flinched sharply. Quickly, you reached up and scratched your head in an effort to hide the tick. Unfortunately, Chara seemed to think it was their earlier comment that had gotten to you, and a wide grin spread on their face in response. With sharp, jerky movements, you began methodically putting away all of the instruments you'd taken out.

"You'll live... Unfortunately," you said, unable to tamp down on your immaturity this time.

"Oh, joy."

"Um..." Alphys said, clearing her throat. "Everyone's waiting on us... We should probably get back..."

With that, Chara hopped off of the table and the three of you headed back into the main room. You heard laughter echoing down the hallway, but it cut off abruptly when you reentered the bedroom. 

"Are things still looking... okay?" Toriel asked you and Alphys worriedly. Chara brushed past you and went to stand next to Frisk, who handed them Asriel's pot wordlessly.

"I'm fine," they assured their mom with a falsely sweet smile. Toriel smiled back at them warmly before reaching over to smooth their hair down. They leaned into the touch. You couldn't tell how much, if any of it, was an act. You looked to Frisk for guidance; they knew Chara better than anyone. Your adoptive sibling looked happy, so you tried to ignore your own feelings of unease.

While Alphys assured the King and Queen of Chara's continued health, you led the big group through your shortcut. Upon teleporting into your room, you were greeted by the savory smell of chicken casserole. 

"What took ya so long?" Sans asked. He was sitting on one of the chairs at the kid's table, leaning back so far that the wooden chair creaked despite his light weight. Internally, you groaned. It seemed Sans was volunteering himself to entertain the kids. It went without saying that you were going to sit with him, so that task would fall on your shoulders, too.

"Nothin'" you responded, then walked past him and planted a kiss on top of his skull without really thinking about it. You blushed when you realized - neither of you had done PDA since you got back together. You didn't even really kiss casually yet... Only at the end of dates. Before you could worry about having overstepped any boundaries, Sans looked up at you with a huge grin on his face. You smiled back at him, relieved.

"Ew!"

"Disgusting."

Asriel and Chara expressed their displeasure. But, when you looked over at Frisk, they were smiling. They, at least, weren't a cynical brat who didn't believe in love.

Getting everyone settled down with plates of food was a hectic storm of movement that you were glad you weren't in charge of. Despite the fact that you lived here, too, you took no responsibility for hosting this dinner. That was all on Undyne and Alphys.

Once everyone was seated, though, the meal went over surprisingly well. You supposed you couldn't speak for whatever was happening at the bigger table, but your little babysitting circle with Sans wasn't so bad. Sans had a steady stream of jokes going, much to Frisk's amusement and Asriel's dismay. The only thing that made it awkward was that Sans only spoke only to those two, largely ignoring Chara the whole time. You figured you could only expect so much of him; it was a miracle he wasn't blasting Chara to ash on sight. He seemed to have reached some sort of peace with Asriel, but getting him to accept Chara was almost certainly never going to happen. Still, you tried to make them feel included by slipping a joke in every now and then, nudging them with your elbow and waggling your brow in their direction whenever you did. Your efforts only earned scoffs and eyerolls. 

Truthfully, you didn't know how to act around Chara. Obviously, they weren't magically going to become a normal kid now that they had their own body and a soul separate from Frisk's. But, at the same time, that was kind of what you were hoping for. You were the one who had suggested that maybe they should get a second chance even before Orion had come along to demand it. Now, you felt responsible for them. You wished they would give you some kind of sign that they were going to be better now, but you had yet to see anything of the sort. It set you on edge... Constantly wondering if maybe you shouldn't be giving them as much freedom as you were. Wondering if you could trust Toriel and Asgore to look out for Chara when they didn't truly know the horrors of what they'd done...

The answer wasn't about to reach out and slap you in the face. You supposed it was just something you were going to have to take day by day. At least you knew Sans was just as on alert, if not more so than you were. And Chara couldn't go anywhere without either of you there to teleport them; they couldn't be seen by monsters or humans until the legality of this whole situation was figured out. For now, they were stuck going wherever you or Sans teleported them.

Once everyone was done eating and conversations had died down, you escorted the royal family back to the lab, where they had been sleeping for the past week. By the time you returned home, cleanup efforts were already well underway. You volunteered to dry the dishes Papyrus was washing, while Sans, Undyne, and Alphys worked on bringing the tables and chairs back to their original homes. You were surprised Sans was sticking around to help clean... Until he put a hand on the small of your back and said,

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure..." you agreed, trying not to sound nervous as you finished drying the plate you were working on. Conversations that were preceded with a request to speak in private had a history of being awkward and overly serious. But, when Sans led you outside to the front porch, he only grinned at you and asked,

"I was just wondering... Wanna go to a movie on Friday? I was thinkin' I could get a day pass, so we could go to a real theater..."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by the direction this had gone, "Yeah! That sounds fun. What did you wanna see?"

"I dunno. Didn't'cha mention the next Star Wars movie comes out soon?"

"Oh yeah! That came out last weekend! I should pre-order tickets, then... I bet it'll be packed still..."

While you and Sans discussed the logistics, you allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. You always got a little thrill when you planned a date with Sans. Now that you were on the... What was it? Fourth date already? You would've thought the feeling should've gone away by now. But you were glad it hadn't yet. You were amused and enthralled by the sense of newness and adventure.

After hashing out your plans and parting ways with Sans, you returned inside to find that the dishes had been finished in your absence. In fact, you'd missed most of the clean-up. Excellent.

"WHERE IS MY LAZY BROTHER???" Papyrus asked loudly, then added more softly, "Did he leave already?"

"Oh, uh... Yeah." You bit your lip and, feeling bad that Sans had forgotten him, offered, "I could teleport you back to your house... Sans'll be miffed you beat him!" Papyrus sighed dramatically.

"No, that is alright! I will simply have to run to catch up to him!" With a flourish, Papyrus donned his helmet and dashed past you. "Until next time, sibling!" he called back to you before slamming the door. You chuckled at his antics and shook your head.

"So wh-what did you and Sans talk about...?" Alphys asked, her tail lashing back and forth as she leaned on the back of a chair and blinked at you innocently. Undyne was listening, too. She crossed her arms and raised her brows at you. 

You rolled your eyes. The two of them were always trying to get the latest scoop on you and Sans. They were far more invested in your relationship now than they had ever been the first time you were together. 

"Oh, nothing... We're just going to a movie this Friday," you said coyly. Secretly, you kind of loved having friends who were in your corner. You wondered if Papyrus and Sans had similar conversations. Somehow, you couldn't imagine Sans gossiping about you, even to his brother. He was more shy about that stuff than you were.

Alphys gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh! Th-that's a good idea... I hadn't even realized we could do that with the day passes..."

"We should go sometime!" Undyne proclaimed, jumping on the date idea as soon as Alphys showed interest. "Let us know if the movie's any good! If it is, maybe we could go next week???"

"Y-yeah!" Alphys agreed, excited. You grinned at them as you walked across the living room.

"Will do. Gonna get ready for bed now, though... I'm beat." It wasn't all that late, but with Undyne insisting on waking you up at the ass-crack of dawn to train every day, you tended to go to bed earlier than most. Your housemates knew this already, and simply waved you off and bid you goodnight. 

Upon entering your room and closing the blinds, you immediately began stripping so you could change into something comfier. You'd dressed up a little more than normal today, given that you had ventured out into the city...

That thought reminded you; you still had those papers from Shelly in your pocket. With all of the activity of this evening, you'd completely forgotten about your first therapy session. Quickly, you snatched up your pants from the floor and extracted the folded-up papers. You took a deep breath as you flattened them out on your bed, then began flipping through them with a critical eye. 

The first two documents were informational handouts. The first was the one about stuck points that you'd caught a glimpse of earlier, while the second was titled "PTSD: Non-Recovery Following Traumatic Events." You felt a little queasy just looking at them, so you set them aside for now and instead focused on reading your homework assignment on the last page.

Please write at least one page on why you think this traumatic event occured. You are not being asked to write specifics about the traumatic event. Focus on what you think caused the event. Also, consider the effects this traumatic event has had on your beliefs about yourself, others, and the world around you in the following areas: safety, trust, power/control, esteem, and intimacy. Bring this with you to the next session.

Numbly, you sat down on your bed, putting the piece of paper in your lap as you rubbed your temples. You reread the instructions, your heart pounding. It said you didn't have to talk specifically about what happened... So that was something, at least. But the cause and effects? You didn't even know...

You rubbed your chest agitatedly. _Why_ it occured... You didn't know why. Was there a reason? Would it help you, mentally, if you could find one? Shelly had said it was your way of thinking that was causing you problems. Truthfully, you tried your best not to think about it, period, which was probably part of what she'd meant by that. The trouble was that you could recognize the avoidance was an issue, but understanding that it was a problem didn't make it any easier to start thinking about it now that you'd spent a year suppressing it. Even now, as you merely read the instructions of your assignment silently to yourself, your hands were shaking. 

You couldn't do this now... Not right before you were about to go to sleep. That was just inviting nightmares. You would have to tackle this in the morning.

Relieved that you had managed to find a way to justify postponing this, you gathered up the pieces of paper and folded them together again. You tossed the whole stack on your nightstand. It was out of the way, yet still out in the open so that you wouldn't forget it. With that, you threw the covers back on your bed and curled up into a tense, protective ball, as if that would shield you from the self-sabotaging thoughts that forever lurked in the back of your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research on CPT for this... I find it very fascinating. So much so that I filled out the PCL-5 worksheet on Reed's behalf. If you're interested, you can see the full thing [here](https://imgur.com/a/YW6KvSK) (have fun guessing Reed's last name, lol). I may or may not fill out other documents like this for them in the future. Depends if something strikes my fancy.
> 
> I also just want to clarify that Reed's views on anxiety and depression don't reflect my own... I am aware that it takes more than just a prescription to treat those things.
> 
> Last but certainly not least... Check out [this art I commissioned of Reed!](https://imgur.com/a/4t5pguj) These were done by zombbean on tumblr. I suppose this is going to be the definitive version of Reed for this fic. If you don't like that... I guess just pretend they still look like however you pictured them XD But I gotta say... If that sketch of Reed doesn't look like someone who would run a motherfucker over with their car, I don't know what does.


	2. Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Stuck Point: Orion should be alive instead of me.

What is the evidence for this stuck point?: Orion fixed all of our mistakes when all I've ever done is mess things up. They have people who love and miss them, and I'm selfish for taking them away from everyone else.

***  
***

**June 27th, 2019**

***

Hunched over the worktable in the lab, you fumbled with a soldering iron held awkwardly in your large hand. You clicked your jaw in and out, frustrated but determined to make this work. Even with the wires you were trying to connect clamped down, you still had to hold the iron in one hand and the solder in the other. This was a bit of an issue when one of your hands was, essentially, made of knives. You couldn't grip the thin tube of solder with your right hand, but had trouble angling the iron correctly with that hand, too. You couldn't win.

Just as you were considering holding the solder between your teeth, you heard the door to the lab creak open. Those hinges really needed to be oiled.

"Alphys, could you-" you cut yourself off when you saw who it was. A slow, crooked smile spread on your face, but it fell abruptly as soon as you realized why he was here. "Papyrus... It's... Late, isn't it?"

"Yes, very!" Pap agreed, "Did you lose track of time again?" Your shoulders hunched even more so than they already were.

"I'm sorry... I keep making you come down here to fetch me," you mumbled, placing the soldering iron down on the table carefully. Without Papyrus there to watch out for you, you were certain you would never get any sleep. Nor would you ever show up for appointments. It wasn't that you didn't care... You were just forgetful. Even with a clock up on almost every wall of the lab, you never really comprehended the time. When you were down here, all that existed was whatever you were working on.

"Do not worry, sibling!" Papyrus brushed your apology off good-naturedly, "I am punctual enough for both of us!!!"

You huffed a short, empty laugh. The fact that Papyrus wasn't scolding you was out of character. Everyone had been acting a little weird around you as of late. Not that they didn't always, but it was especially noticeable today. You were pretty sure you knew why.

The date of your second - and hopefully final - soul separation was set. You'd texted everyone earlier in the morning... One week from today. That would give you plenty of time to finish up some last-minute optimizations on the DTEM.

You didn't understand why everyone was being so odd about it. They'd known this was coming. You'd warned them from the very beginning that you weren't planning on sticking around for long this time. You'd already stayed longer than you had any right to. You could only hope the other two wouldn't resent you for the things you'd done and said in this past month...

"Did you need help with something?" You snapped out of your wandering thoughts to contemplate Papyrus' question. Placidly, you looked between him and the wires you'd been struggling with for a moment before replying,

"Yes. Do you want to learn how to solder?" Papyrus perked up immediately. He probably hadn't expected you to accept his offer of help.

"OF COURSE I DO! The Great Papyrus is the best at learning things!!!" You grinned. While you knew that assertion was objectively untrue, you obviously didn't correct him.

You hadn't thought it possible to know more about your brother than you did before. But experiencing Gaster's memories had revealed a whole new side of him that you'd never been privy to in the past. You'd already known that he struggled with academic pursuits, but you never would've thought he'd have it in him to stick up for himself and run away from home like he had. The fact that he had been able to get himself away from Gaster's toxic presence when you hadn't been able to do the same, yourself, opened a newfound dimension to your respect for him. Maybe he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he could see into people's hearts like you couldn't. In many ways, that was far more important than raw intelligence.

"Stand here, then." You stepped aside and, in the blink of an eye, Papyrus was right next to you. He bounced on his heels as he examined the different tools laid out on the workbench.

"What's this?" he asked as he picked up the soldering iron. The wrong way. He was lucky you hadn't turned it on in a while, or else it would've burned him. 

"Soldering iron. Hold it this way," you grunted before taking it from his hands, turning it around, and giving it back. Next, you pointed out the spool of iron tubing with a long talon. "That's the solder. The idea is to coat the ends of the wires in solder so that they fuse together. You use the iron to heat it from the bottom..." You took Papyrus' hand it yours and guided him so that the iron was underneath the wires. "...And drip the solder on top."

As you explained what to do, Papyrus listened to you attentively. He followed your instructions carefully as you guided him through connecting the two wires. He didn't do a half-bad job... Applied a little too much solder, but it could've gone worse. By the time he was finished, you had a nice connection that would definitely last at least the next week. Beyond that, it wasn't your problem anymore.

"Wowie! That was exciting!" Papyrus exclaimed, even though it really wasn't. You merely hummed noncommittally and started packing up your supplies, meticulously arranging them in the newly-organized lab. 

Your brother watched you do this for a while. You could tell something was on his mind; you caught him shifting his weight from foot to foot as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. He spoke up eventually, as you knew he would.

"I received your text earlier this morning!" His exclamation had little substance. You glanced over at him curiously.

"Mhm," you rumbled in affirmation. Papyrus wring his hands together.

"Um... You are leaving so soon! I did not think..." he trailed off, going uncharacteristically quiet. You pulled out a stool and sat on it, bringing yourself down to Papyrus' height.

"Alphys and I are nearly done optimizing the DTEM. I have no reason to stay any longer."

"But I'll miss you!" Papyrus blurted out. He took a step toward you and grabbed your hand imploringly. "Can't you just stay a little longer...?" You raised one brow and tilted your head.

"Don't you miss Sans and Reed?" you asked in a low voice. Papyrus' face scrunched up, conflicted.

"Yes, of course! But... I don't know..." His eyes darted back and forth, as though wondering if he was allowed to say what he was thinking. As if the volume of his voice made it any better, he whispered tearfully, "I just don't want you to die..."

You smiled ruefully. You were reminded an awful lot of what Charlie had said when you first discussed this with him. It was easier for you to think that no one in this world loved you as an individual; that they only cared about you for your component parts. But, deep down, you knew that wasn't completely true. This past month had proved it. It made things more difficult. Not so much for you... You'd never once questioned your decision to split your souls again. But the people around you didn't seem to understand. You had to try to do a better job of explaining it.

With this in mind, you covered your brother's hands with your own, your long, sharp fingers completely obfuscating his. You chose your next words carefully.

"There is no need to feel guilty about wanting Sans and Reed back. In fact, their return should be cause for celebration. Because... As long as they're alive... I will never die."

You could tell by his confused and saddened expression that Papyrus didn't understand. You sighed, bowed your head, and patted his hands with your own before continuing,

"Maybe that doesn't make sense yet, but it will one day. I promise."

"...If you say so, sibling," Papyrus muttered. He sniffled, then severed his physical connection with you in order to wipe his damp eyes with the backs of his hands. You stood up to your full height.

"It's late. Let's go home."

With that, Papyrus took your hand and allowed you to lead him through a shortcut.

***

**September 21st, 2021**

***

Being that today was the first Tuesday in ages that you didn't have to go to a meeting, you were celebrating by having an extra long training session with Undyne. Ordinarily, you didn't train on Tuesdays. But, since you didn't have to worry about showering and making yourself presentable before eight o'clock, you could goof around as much as you wanted to. 

Your training wasn't really for any purpose anymore; Undyne had long ago made you an honorary member of the Royal Guard, though your ambassador work took precedence over anything else. Still, Undyne had you out on simple patrols whenever you had the time, mostly just for publicity's sake. But, despite the fact that you had nowhere to go from here, you kept up your training with Undyne as a way to stay fit and as an excuse to hang out with one of your best friends.

Once you had finished with your usual daily activities, you and Undyne started getting more silly with it. The longer you stayed at her training facility, the more people started showing up to check on you and see what the holdup was. It was while you were wrestling Papyrus playfully in the arena that Sans sauntered in through a shortcut.

"Hey, suga'!" you called out to him while holding Papyrus in a headlock. Recently, you'd started trying out different pet names for him. To him, your place was firmly cemented as "babe," but you had only just realized how unfair it was that he got to call you a cute moniker while you were stuck with just his boring old first name. You were determined to change that.

Sans winced and drew a hand sharply across his neck. That was a no on "suga'," then. You laughed, but your moment of distraction allowed Papyrus to get the upper hand. He pried you off of him and whisked you up off of your feet. He held you out at arm's length, supporting you under the armpits, while your legs kicked out wildly in mid-air. 

"NYEH HEH HEH! Give up, human! Your efforts to escape are futile! No one can match my sheer height advant-AH!" 

Papyrus' victory speech turned into a yelp as he was suddenly swept off of his feet. Despite being dropped unceremoniously, you landed upright. You had enough sense to bend your knees a little so as not to jar them as you hit the ground. When you looked up, you saw Sans' left eye glowing a faint blue. He winked at you, and the color disappeared.

"NOT FAIR!" Papyrus proclaimed. He popped back up to his feet and turned to face Sans, stomping his foot in a huff. "No interference from outside the ring! Those are the rules!!!"

"But I'm not outside the ring, Pap," Sans said right as he appeared by your side. You put a hand up to your mouth to cover a snort of laughter, then used the other hand to lean on Sans' shoulder. You'd left your cane at the bench, and were glad to now have something else to support your weight. Papyrus whirled around and took a step back, putting his hands on his hips.

"Oh ho! So you wish to join the battle?!? UNDYNE!!!" he called out before Sans could object. There was a bang and a curse from within the house before Undyne flung the door open and poked her head out.

"WHAT???"

"COME AND BE MY SPARRING PARTNER!!!"

"Oh, uh, I don't think..." Sans protested weakly, but you nudged him gently and said, quiet enough that Papyrus wouldn't hear,

"C'mon... Maybe we can try out that thing we were talking about?" Sans raised his brows in surprise.

"It was just a theory... And are you sure you'd be okay with that?"

"Yeah! Undyne and I have practiced with my soul out a couple times. It won't be that weird... As long as you're okay with it." He gave you an easy-going grin.

"I'll try anything once, babe."

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO WHISPERING ABOUT?" Papyrus asked with his hands on his hips. Upon hearing that there was a battle to be fought, Undyne had run across the front yard, vaulted over the bench, and came to a stop at Papyrus' side. Before you could make up some lie for Papyrus, she declared,

"TWO ON TWO! Same rules as always!"

"Actually," you said with a cough to clear your throat, "I'd be okay with making souls legal this time, if you guys want." You were careful to word the suggestion as if you were making a generous offer; like it wasn't going to benefit you more than it would your opponents. Undyne raised her brows, surprised, before her mouth split into a predatory grin.

"It's your funeral, punk!" You smiled back and said cryptically,

"We'll see about that."

With that, you and Sans retreated to one corner together while Papyrus and Undyne dashed to the other. As you took your positions, you felt a tingle of excitement electrifying your skin. You could've counted the number of times you and Sans fought together on one hand, and those were all out of necessity. Sans didn't see the point in play-fighting. It was pointless work to him, since he didn't need the practice. Plus, with his poor constitution, there were few people he trusted not to seriously injure him - or possibly even accidentally kill him - in a friendly scuffle. But he was, apparently, willing to put his distaste for sparring aside to test out this theory that the two of you had.

You disagreed with Sans on this. You loved sparring. You loved that your friends treated you not like you were a fragile thing to be protected, but like a real threat. Maybe it was wrong, but you enjoyed the heady sense of power that came with that. Being taken seriously like that was something you hadn't known you'd been missing in your life until you suddenly had it. However, you could understand why Sans didn't like to spar after having been forced to fight for his life so many times. But you didn't feel the same. In fact, the prospect of partnering up with Sans for this match had you practically giddy with excitement. 

"Ready?" Undyne asked. You looked down at Sans, your eyes alight with enthusiasm. Sans merely shook his head at you, but still said,

"Ready."

As soon as he said that, you had to duck sideways as a spear soared through the air to strike the space between you and Sans. Neither of you got hit by the attack, but you were forced to dodge in opposite directions.

Your opponents' strategy quickly became apparent; they were trying to keep you and Sans apart. Papyrus threw a wall of bones up to block your views of each other. He then went on to send a volley of attacks toward his brother, while Undyne split off from him to corner you on the opposite side of the arena. 

Once she had you alone, your mentor wasted no time by beckoning your soul out of your chest. You felt a flutter of fear as the purple heart was tugged from your body, but it was a far cry from the overwhelming panic you would've felt at the same action a couple years ago. Still, your momentary lapse in attention gave Undyne an opening to attack. You winced as a magical spear erupted from the ground to strike your soul. The attack did exactly what it was designed to do; it didn't hurt you, but merely drained you of energy. 

You stumbled sideways. The only thing that kept you from falling to your knees was the fence next to you, which you clung onto in order to steady yourself. You ground your teeth together and just barely managed to summon a chain to shatter another incoming spear. You didn't bother trying to make it stick around. Your weapon flickered and died once it had done its job.

The problem with Undyne and Papyrus' divide-and-conquer strategy was simple... No force in this universe could keep you and Sans apart when you didn't want to be. It was cute that they thought they could try. You gave Undyne a condescending salute before stepping into a shortcut. You already had plenty of them littered around the arena, so you didn't bother expending energy on making a new one.

Conveniently, this shortcut put you right behind Sans. He was hopping through shortcuts, himself, choosing his go-to strategy of evading Papyrus rather than actually putting in the effort to fight him. He utilized the natural shortcuts as well as the ones you'd made in the past indiscriminately. Actually, you didn't think he could tell a difference. Regardless, you were lucky to catch him right before he disappeared through one. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him in a new direction, pulling him through a different shortcut than the one he'd opened.

The two of you ended up as far away from Undyne and Papyrus as you could be while still being in-bounds. Thinking fast, Sans erected a thick wall of bones, which sprang up in a semi-circle around you both. He put a hand on your shoulder and asked,

"Ready?" You beamed at him with a wild, exhilarated look in your eyes. 

"Let's try it!"

As always, Sans waited for your explicit permission to be granted before taking his own soul out of his chest and pressing it to yours. 

The flashes of memories were incredibly brief. You'd just done this last night, after all. Even so, you had no time to process your situation before your bone cage was shattered by a single swipe from a comically huge spear.

Your right and left eyes flared bright. A pulse of energy shot from your souls like a sonic boom. As it washed over the arena, it nullified every piece of magic it came into contact with. The spear, what remained of Sans' cage, and Papyrus' spent bones all disappeared. It radiated out from you farther than was necessary, so you gathered it up and drew it back in. Within seconds after your souls had touched, you'd coordinated the magic well enough that it was swirling around each of your opponents. There was nothing they could've done to escape the oppressive storm of energy that smothered every attempt they made to lash out... Magically or physically. 

Both Undyne and Papyrus yelled out wordlessly in outraged frustration, but you were certain they wouldn't be able to escape. The last enemy you'd restricted in this way had been slipperier than these two combined. You had no problem holding them still while you examined the more interesting matter of what the hell had just happened to you.

Seeing out of four eyes was dizzying. You closed them all and took a deep, rattling breath from two chests simultaneously. Your minds swam with confusion. Had you not experienced this double-body situation countless times in the comfort and privacy of your own homes, you wouldn't have been able to comprehend it. There was something different this time, however.

You were Orion.

That was... new.

"Hey, what gives?!?" Undyne called from where she was rooted from the ground. You hummed, the sound vibrating through bone and flesh. 

"You gonna say 'uncle,' or what?" you asked, the sentiment coming out of two mouths simultaneously. Even in the wake of such an unexpected turn of events, you were still able to tease your friends. 

You imagined Sans and Reed would not feel so nonchalant about this when it was over.

"Fine! Uncle!" Undyne called. Once his boss gave in, Papyrus did the same.

"Uncle!"

You released them without fanfare. As you heard two sets of footsteps approaching, you attempted to open your eyes again. Although the other two had by now mastered the ability to finely control the bodies separately, you were still new at this. You couldn't figure out how to open only one set of eyes, and ended up just dealing with the nausea of having them both sending you conflicting visual information.

"What the hell are you doing?!?" Undyne asked with an incredulous laugh. "That looks SO weird!" You watched Undyne approach as if your eyes were crossed. The double-vision made it hard to judge how far away things were. You listed sideways, and both bodies leaned into the fence beside them.

"Uh... Trying to combine their magic, I think. I guess it worked," you said in a monotone. The tone felt wrong coming out of both the human's mouth and the monster's. That was probably what tipped Papyrus off. He gasped and pressed his hands against the sides of his face.

"ORION?!? Is that you???"

"...I think so." Your befuddled reply didn't deter Papyrus at all. He lunged forward and wrapped both of your bodies in a big hug. Your heart raced and magic fluttered in your chest as he narrowly avoided knocking into your souls in the process. 

While Papyrus blubbered about how happy he was to see you, you felt yourself starting to lose it. The feeling of vulnerability was bothersome, and you didn't much like the physical sensations. It was making you feel sick. As you slipped away mentally, your souls started to slide away from each other physically...

All of the sudden, you snapped back into your body. You gasped, doubled over, and shoved both Papyrus and Sans away from you. You had enough sense to quickly make a shortcut to your bathroom on the surface before throwing up, just barely making it over the toilet.

It was the fastest vomit session you'd ever had in your life, you could say that much for it. You emptied the contents of your stomach in record time, already reaching up to flush the toilet by the time Sans appeared at your side moments later. 

"You okay?" His patellas cracked on the tile floor as he fell to his knees beside you. You nodded, not quite trusting yourself to open your mouth just yet. You still felt a little queasy, but it was fading rapidly. 

"That was..." he trailed off. Instead of finishing his thought, Sans reached up and began rubbing soothing circles into your back absentmindedly.

"Let's not do that again," you said, your tone of voice sounding pleading. Sans' hand stilled on your back.

"It wasn't any different from what we always do, though," he spoke quietly, his volume betraying a hidden fear. The unspoken question lingered between you...

Why had Orion formed this time, and never any of the other countless times you'd shared souls?

You had to think about it for a moment before coming up with a plausible answer.

"I bet it's because we tried to do magic," you postulated, shifting your position to sit with your back against the wall of the bathroom. "That must've triggered something..."

Silence fell between you. This was not at all what you'd wanted to come out of your experiment. All you'd wanted to do was see if you could use some of the same powers Orion used to have when your souls were together. It seemed only they could wield those powers, though. 

They just kept coming back. Every time you thought they were gone for good, Orion would find some way to show up again. It wasn't that you didn't... _like_ them, or didn't appreciate everything they'd done for you in the past. It was just that you didn't enjoy the feeling of anyone taking control of your body, no matter who they were. But then... Was that selfish of you? Should you have let Orion stay to talk to Papyrus longer?

You were starting to feel a little nauseous again. You and Sans should never have tried that dumb idea. 

"We shouldn't be experimenting with our souls," you expressed while rubbing your forehead tiredly. "Everything's okay now... We shouldn't mess with a good thing."

"Right," Sans agreed readily. "We just won't do magic while we're together like that again."

For now, that was the end of the conversation. Sans stood up and held out his hand to you, which you took gratefully. You both headed back to the arena, where you knew you were going to have to endure many well-meaning but invasive questions from your friends.

***

**November 8th, 2021**

***

"Hey, babe," Sans greeted you as he walked in the door. You heard him behind you, but didn't turn around to look.

"Hi, love," you returned sleepily. You must've dozed off on the couch. The house had grown dark without you noticing, with the glow of the TV being the only thing illuminating the living room. You had it turned way down, so you probably shouldn't have been surprised that it put you to sleep. Something about the quiet murmur of the TV combined with the cozy blanket you had wrapped around you never failed to knock you out. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and asked, "How was class?"

"Boring." You listened to the shuffling sounds of him shrugging his coat off and letting it fall to the ground. "Dunno why I bother going. S'all stuff I already know." You frowned.

"You gotta go to class..." you said, but didn't give any reasons. Sans already knew them all; the two of you had this talk almost every day.

Finally, Sans walked into your field of view. His strained smile turned soft. Carefully, he lifted you up by the shoulders so he could slide under you. You didn't resist, but didn't help much, either. As he settled you on his lap, he continued the conversation by lamenting,

"Just wish I didn't have to take so many night classes, is all." You hummed sympathetically. After years of putting it off (and after much pestering from you and his brother), Sans had finally enrolled in the monster equivalent of college. However, it was quickly becoming apparent that higher education in the Underground paled in comparison to the kind of education you'd been privileged to have. For one thing, the highest degree one could get was only a two-year gig, and Sans was on track to finish in even less time given how many classes he'd tested out of. For another, there were so few monsters who were qualified to teach at a high level that the options for what he could do were extremely limited. For example, Sans was majoring in "science," as there was no specific degree available for physics. It was absurd to you... And to Sans, since he knew from your own experiences what he was missing out on.

At any rate, one of the consequences of this was that he couldn't choose his class times. Since there were so few people in his classes, they all had to agree on one time that would work for everyone. This was usually at night, as most students also worked full time jobs during the day.

"I'm sorry it sucks so bad," you said, perhaps a little insensitively. Sans' laugh rang hollow in your ears. 

"Thanks... 'Preciate it. S'not your fault, though."

Before either of you could really get going on how broken the monster education system was, you were startled by a knock on your front door. You looked at each other with identical, concerned expressions. When someone came calling so late at night, it was almost never to share good news. 

You scrambled to get to your feet, ditching the blanket on the floor and grabbing your cane from off of the coffee table. You had to kick Sans' jacket aside to open the door.

"Asgore. Hi." The King looked somber standing in your doorway, but whatever was going on at least wasn't so bad that he couldn't smile at you and say,

"Hello, human. I apologize for calling on you so late, but I have an urgent favor I must ask of you. May I come in?" You furrowed your brows, but nodded and stepped aside. As always, Asgore had to duck his head to fit through the doorway. Sans, who had gotten to his feet, too, asked the King in a falsely casual tone,

"What's up?" Asgore scratched the fur on his chin and, as soon as you shut the door and cut off the cold breeze that had been blowing in from outside, started explaining,

"There has been a bit of an incident at the Core this evening. Two workers were conducting routine checks to ensure everything was running smoothly, but only one of them has returned." You and Sans glanced at each other anxiously. You knew all too well how easy it was to get lost in the Core. "The one who got out says she was separated from her partner when the rooms changed configuration unexpectedly. She was in charge of holding the map, so she was able to make it back without issue. But it has been over an hour and we still have not received word from the lost monster."

You bit the inside of your cheek. The initial dozen or so rooms of the Core weren't so bad... They shifted around, but their configurations tended to follow predictable patterns. It was when you got deeper into the machine that things started to get hairy. If the worker had gotten lost and accidentally wandered further into the Core... That would only make it exponentially more difficult for them to get back out. Orion had been lost in there for about a week before they happened to stumble across an exit. Who knew how long it would take this person to get out, if they ever would...

"Whaddya want us to do about it?" Sans asked. Asgore rubbed his chin again.

"Well, you could certainly accompany them, but I believe this is a job for Reed..." Your eyes widened with surprise. Asgore continued, "I know you have explained to me that there are no... er, _shortcuts_ in the Core, but perhaps you could create one? It is too dangerous to send a normal rescue team that far into the Core, but if you could go in, find the missing monster, and teleport back out... I would not have to risk losing anyone else in the rescue efforts. Correct me if I am wrong."

You clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth thoughtfully. If you could make shortcuts in the void, then you were certain you could make them in the Core, too. Asgore was right; sending you in there after the lost monster would be the safest bet. 

"Alright, I'll do it," you agreed before Sans could protest on your behalf. You felt him piercing you with an intense stare, but you steadfastly ignored him for now. Asgore smiled at you, relieved.

"Thank you... That is very kind of you. Here, take this." He reached in the pocket of his robe to pull out a polaroid photo. It was a picture of two monsters with their arms around each other's shoulders. With a furry finger, Asgore pointed to the monster on the right. She looked like an anthropomorphic raven, complete with sleek, black feathers, a long beak, and beady eyes.

"That is Sloane. I am sure her girlfriend will be very thankful if you could find her and bring her home."

"Tell her not to worry," you said with a smile as you took the photo from the King and pocketed it. "We'll have her back in no time. Right, Sans?" Finally, you looked over at Sans, who you assumed was going with you. Sure enough, he was at your side the moment you mentioned him.

"Right."

"In that case, good luck. I hope to see you both again shortly."

With that declaration, Asgore left your house. Immediately, you grabbed Sans' hand and started leading him upstairs to the attic.

"C'mon... I think the quickest way would be taking my shortcut to the lab, then taking one of yours to Mettaton's hotel-"

"Wait." Sans dug his heels in. With one foot already on the first step of the spiral staircase, you turned and blinked at him in confusion. "Shouldn't we talk about this?"

"What's there to talk about?" 

"Uh..." Sans rubbed the back of his head, running his finger over the small hole in his skull. "I mean, it's the Core. Kinda dangerous." You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Well, yeah. All the more reason to find Sloane before she gets into trouble." 

You were frustrated, but unsurprised, when Sans merely shrugged and continued following you up the stairs. You were sure there was more to his reluctance to enter the Core than just the slight danger of getting stung by a laser or somehow tripping spectacularly and falling into lava. But now wasn't really the time to analyze it. You had to find this missing worker. You wished Sans was willing to tell you what was really bothering him outright, but you weren't going to waste time trying to pry it from him if he wasn't.

You ascended the staircase (which was awkwardly placed in your fairly small house, but better than having to climb a ladder all the time) where there were rows of shortcuts lined up meticulously on either side of the attic. There was a desk, a comfy chair, and some bookshelves at the end of the room to at least give it the veneer of a study or office space. Really though, this room was put to use more often as your shortcut hub. It was much more organized and planned-out than the old one in your bedroom at Undyne and Alphys' house. You and Sans both took advantage of it often; hardly a day went by when neither of you went up there to teleport someplace faster.

The two of you did exactly as you'd suggested by first going to the True Lab, then ducking into a second shortcut to get to Mettaton's hotel. It really was quite late, so there was no one in the lobby. Just Burgerpants manning the receptionist's desk. He'd graduated up from the MTT Burger Emporium, but it seemed like more of a lateral move to you.

"Checking in?" he asked tiredly, his eyes closed as he rested his head on his hand. You weren't even sure how he knew you were there.

"No thanks, just passing through," you said politely. Burgerpants gave a weak thumbs-up. You and Sans walked hand-in-hand to the entrance of the Core. There was no one around to see you, anyway.

Immediately upon walking through the dark terrace and entering the brightly lit belly of the machine, you understood why Sans had been hesitant to come here. A jolt of primal panic lanced down your spine. You squeezed Sans' hand. You knew he felt it too when you heard him suck in a breath and felt his fingers tighten around yours. It took you a minute to understand why you were so afraid. This was where it had all gone wrong...

Where you'd died.

Not you... Gaster. But it might as well have been you. You'd been forced to experience it, too. Although the memory of being torn apart and scattered across dimensions was secondhand, it still felt real. Real enough to spike your blood pressure and still your breath.

Once you realized what was going on, you snapped out of it. You'd be damned if you were going to lose yourself over someone else's trauma. You'd had enough of that with your own. You inhaled deeply, held the breath for a couple seconds, then let it out slowly. Only when you'd confirmed with yourself that you were calm enough to face this did you turn to Sans.

The lights in his eyes were completely out. His skull shined with sweat. His vice grip on your hand was starting to get uncomfortable. Concerned, you frowned and swiped your thumb over the back of his hand.

"You okay?" Silence. You waited for almost a full minute. When he didn't respond, you said more quietly, "You don't have to do this, Sans. I got this."

The prospect of you going into the Core alone shook him out of his funk. He kept his grip on your hand, but loosened it a little. He looked up at you and said with a fierceness,

"Hell no."

Still, you kept a close eye on Sans as the two of you passed through the first few rooms. You were so distracted by Sans and making sure he was okay that you didn't notice there was something abnormal up ahead until he squeezed your hand and pointed.

"Look."

You did. Another wave of disturbed horror washed over you when you caught sight of several blueprints lying, abandoned, on the ground. It all came flooding back. Orion... They'd left the blueprints here when they'd gone out looking for entries. You knew without having to look at them that these weren't the ones pertaining to the Core. Rather, they were all of the plans Orion had deemed useless in their quest to find Gaster. Research on soul replication, early plans for what would eventually become the DTEM... All written in wingdings. You'd completely forgotten to come back for these like you promised yourself you would, and it seemed that no one else who'd been by this area had dared move them. Monsters generally tried not to disturb anything in the Core, lest it set off some kind of volatile reaction.

"Should we take them...?" you asked with trepidation, though there was really no logical reason not to. In answer, Sans let go of you to walk up to the blueprints. He crouched down, rolled them up, and took out his phone to put them in his dimensional box. You wouldn't have had room in yours, and he barely did in his.

"Might come in handy one day," he said with a shrug. Without another word, the two of you continued on with your search.

The deeper you walked into the Core, the more confusing it got. There were long hallways leading to dead ends, rooms with lasers blinking sporadically without a discernible pattern, and rooms that were just on fire for no reason. You'd been expecting this, so you tried not to let it get to you. You and Sans simply turned around and headed in a different direction whenever you faced an impassable barrier.

You weren't sure how much time passed before you came across a dark figure slumped in a corner. Again, Sans was the first one to notice the abnormality. You would've continued limping onward numbly had he not grabbed your arm and jerked you to a stop. 

"Sloane?" he asked hesitantly. The raven's head, which had been tucked in her wing, suddenly shot up. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, then immediately jumped to her feet when she realized who was in front of her.

"Oh, thank God... Do you know the way out? Please tell me you're not lost, too..."

"No, no... We're here to save you!" you said with a triumphant grin. Finding Sloane hadn't taken as long as you'd feared it would, but you were still eager to get out. So, it seemed, was she. Her shoulders slumped in relief. She inched closer to you and Sans, as though afraid she'd get separated from you if she strayed too far away.

Realizing that now was your time to shine, you turned your back on Sans and Sloane and concentrated on the magic you had to perform. While it had once been a nigh-impossible feat which you reserved for only the the most dire of circumstances, making shortcuts had become second-nature to you over the past couple of years. But now, you were finding it a little difficult to concentrate. Magic kept slipping out of your grasp, as if it were reluctant to be molded to your will. After a couple tries, though, your right eye flared blue and a single shortcut appeared in the otherwise barren wasteland that was the Core. 

"Follow me," you said over your shoulder before stepping through your own shortcut. In an instant, you were back in the lobby of Mettaton's hotel, with Sans and Sloane following close behind you. When she realized where she was, Sloane gaped at you openly.

"How'd you..."

"Don't worry about it," you cut her off quickly. No one was supposed to know you could do magic. Thankfully, Sloane didn't seem willing to question it. She just dipped her head gratefully and said,

"Thank you so much. I am in your debt." Sans waved her off good-naturedly. 

"No problem."

"We'll let King Asgore know that we all got out safely," you assured her, "You just go home and take care of yourself, okay?" Sloane smiled... Probably thinking of her girlfriend, if you had to guess. 

"I will."

With that, the three of you parted ways, with Sloane exiting through the front door of the hotel while Sans took you through a shortcut. He was determined to carry you, insisting that you'd been walking for too long in the Core. You couldn't argue with that, given that your ankles felt like they were on fire. So you climbed onto his back and let him lug you around piggy-back style, well aware that the two of you looked pretty silly with the shorter partner carrying the taller one.

It took a few shortcuts to find Asgore, who was pacing in his throne room. It was still dark out, so you'd either been gone for a _very_ long time, or not long at all. You got your answer when Asgore turned to you with a surprised but pleased expression.

"Back already? Did you find her?"

"Yup," Sans answered. You tapped him on the shoulder, wanting to be set down, but he only squeezed your legs tighter to his body. Jerk. You tried to ignore the embarrassment of being carried as you said from over his shoulder,

"She's on her way back home. She seemed fine... Just tired." You could see the wave of relief wash over Asgore. He sunk heavily into his throne, slumping into the chair as he rubbed his forehead.

"This is excellent news... I cannot thank you enough. Please, go home and get some rest. Reed, you needn't come to the meeting tomorrow morning if you would rather sleep in."

"I'll take you up on that," you said sincerely. Now that your late-night adventure was over, you felt your eyelids starting to droop with exhaustion. Asgore chuckled.

"Goodnight, then. Sleep well."

***

**November 12th, 2021**

***

"Reed, Sans... May I have a word?"

You both turned around at the same time when you heard your names called from across the street. It was early in the morning... You'd just gotten back from dropping Chara off at school when you received a text from Toriel asking if you wanted to have brunch at her house. Of course, you weren't going to turn down free food, so that was where you were headed when you were stopped by Asgore. 

"Sure," you agreed, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you crossed the street to him. Sans mimicked you, though his permanent grin turned into a frown when he saw the serious expression on the King's face.

"What's up?" he asked, to which Asgore sighed and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, there is yet another problem with the Core. Something seems to be wrong with it. Doctor Alphys does not know what could be causing the issue, so I am hoping the two of you may have some insight..."

You and Sans shot each other worried looks. If the Core kept acting up, that did not bode well. The possibility of it exploding again was a very real, if distant concern that was always on the backs of your minds. It had never shown signs of destabilizing before now, though...

"What's wrong with it?" Sans asked, his voice low with unease.

"It seems to be overheating. We have had to double our output of ice from Snowdin to keep up with it. It is quite loud, too... Its groans can be heard from New Home."

That sounded... really bad. Especially if even Alphys didn't know what was causing it. You didn't want to be the one to say it, but at what point would it be appropriate to evacuate everyone from the Underground? Such a feat would be a massive undertaking, but if the Core was warning you that it was going to explode, then you didn't have much choice.

Unlike you, Sans didn't jump to thinking about the worst case scenario. Instead, he snapped his fingers and said to you,

"D'you think it could be the shortcut?" You had to think about what he was saying for a beat before you understood.

"The one I made?" Sans shrugged.

"It's the only thing that's changed about the Core. It's powered by energy from shortcuts, so maybe a having a new one is makin' it... Start up again, or somethin'." You supposed that sounded logical to you. Enough that you suggested,

"We should probably go check it out, then."

Without further ado, Sans grabbed your wrist and pulled you through a shortcut, completely forgetting about Asgore. You used to get annoyed when he did stuff like that, but you were so used to it now that it no longer startled you. So you weren't surprised when you emerged in Mettaton's hotel. However, you _were_ surprised when you were suddenly dunked with a face-full of water.

You jerked out of Sans' grasp and stumbled sideways in an effort to get out of the unrelenting stream. You spluttered and wiped your face with your free hand, rubbing the water out of your eyes. You heard Sans doing the same a little ways to your left. 

"Oh dear... Do be more careful next time, darlings!" A familiar robotic voice chided you. You knew who it was before you cleared your stinging eyes and could look up at him.

"When are you gonna get that fountain fixed?" you grumbled at him. Mettaton tsked you and waggled a finger.

"Repairs cost money, you know! I would rather build something exciting and fresh to bring in the guests than fix a silly old fountain!"

"Sorry... Shoulda looked before I 'ported," Sans said to you, completely ignoring Mettaton standing right in front of you. You rolled your eyes at him, but you were smiling.

"You look like a drowned rat." It was true... Sans did not look good wet. His clothes clung to his bones so that you could see the outline of each of his ribs. Sans looked down at himself, then back up at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

" _Water_ you sayin'? That comment was pretty _shallow_." You snorted, but Mettaton clapped his hands together loudly and said,

"Well, if you are just passing through, like always, then you'd best hurry along! We are closed for renovations right now, anyway, so you shouldn't even be here..."

Sure enough, once you actually looked around, you noticed the place was empty. Not even Burgerpants was there manning his desk. Now that you were listening for it, you could hear the sounds of hammers and power tools coming from the floor above. You hadn't caught it at first because the low, groaning roar of the Core nearly drowned out all of the ruckus completely.

"If you're doin' renovations, why not fix the fountain while you're at it..." Sans mumbled under his breath. In a louder voice, you said hastily,

"We're actually not passing through... We need to check something. It'll only be a minute." You stepped around Mettaton, who huffed and reluctantly stood aside. 

As soon as he moved and stopped blocking your view, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. The shortcut you'd made to get out of the Core was... flickering. Reflexively, you snatched Sans' humerus and gripped it tightly. The sight of the shortcut rapidly opening and closing was all too familiar. Despite the fact that you didn't feel any buzzing in the back of your mind, you still asked Sans,

"Are there others?"

When you tore your gaze away from the shortcut to look down at him, you saw fear in his wide eyes. You weren't sure if it was possible for skeletons to go pale, but you thought Sans' bones looked more ashen than usual. 

"No, just the one..."

You didn't understand it. What was making it flicker like that? Gaster was long dead... It couldn't be him controlling it. But shortcuts didn't just open and close on their own...

It had to be something about the Core. You didn't know why, but it was making the single shortcut inside of it go crazy, the effects of which could be seen on this end in Mettaton's hotel. Thank God the hotel was under construction and relatively empty, otherwise the risk of someone accidentally walking through it would've been high. If someone had gotten stuck in the void... Theoretically, you could've gone in after them, but you didn't think you would've been able to keep it together enough mentally to rescue someone from that hellhole. If walking around in the Core had been tough, you didn't even want to think about what it would be like to return to the void...

"What do we do?" Sans asked, his tone a little desperate. You had to do something. You couldn't just leave a flickering shortcut sitting around. Eventually, someone would walk through it, and you'd have an even bigger problem on your hands. You had to destroy it somehow...

"Orion."

Sans looked up at you, his expression turning from surprise to dark resolve in a matter of seconds. You could see him coming to the same conclusion as you; Orion was the only one who had ever destroyed a shortcut. If you wanted to get rid of this problem permanently, they were the only one who could get the job done.

As if on cue, the Core let out a grating, mechanical screech. You winced. Mettaton sighed.

"I do wish Alphys would put a stop to all that ruckus! It's all well and good for now, but it'll drive guests away once the hotel reopens!"

"About that..." you unclenched your fingers from around Sans' arm, then used the now-free hand to scratch the back of your neck. "...We think we know how to fix it, but we're gonna need you to clear everyone out of the building first." You spoke slowly, looking to Sans for support. He nodded along with what you were saying.

"Should only take a min," he assured Mettaton, who frowned and tapped his foot on the ground.

"Hmm... Well, if you think you can fix that ghastly noise, then I suppose I could clear the workers out. But what does this have to do with my hotel, anyway?" he asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Luckily, Sans came to the rescue.

"Glad you asked. Y'see, the Core's carburetor is malfunctioning on a metacognitive level, so we gotta go in and unscramble the dorsal tachyon ion core-"

"BAH!" Mettaton threw his hands up and exclaimed, "I don't have time for this meaningless scientific babble! Just quiet that thing down... I don't care how it's done."

As the robot marched off, presumably to tell the construction workers to take a break, Sans gave you a big, shit-eating grin. Despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn't hold back a snort.

"Nice save," you said as soon as Mettaton was out of earshot, "Where'd you come up with all of those random, smart-sounding words?"

"Right off the top of the ol' domepiece," he said while tapping his skull. "Guessin' you don't plan on telling Mettaton we're about to blow up his hotel?"

"Hell no." The last time Orion did something like this, it had utterly decimated the barn. The hotel wasn't going to look very pretty when you were through with it. If Mettaton knew the truth of what you were about to do, he would never let you do it.

If it was even going to work, that is. 

The two of you watched on in silence as Mettaton herded everyone out of the hotel. Once the door shut behind him and you and Sans were alone, he turned to face you fully and took both of your hands in his. Well, sort of... He didn't make you let go of your cane, but rather put his hand on top of yours to cover it on the handle. 

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he tried to assure you, but even he didn't sound convinced. You raised your brows at him.

"We kind of do, though." You paused to listen to the roar of the Core behind you. "It'll be okay. It's just Orion."

Sans clenched his teeth, but said no more on the matter. Instead, he lifted his hand from yours and pressed it to his chest. You followed his movements, and the three clicks sounded in synchronicity as both of you took your souls out at the same time. You glanced over at the flickering portal one more time before leaning in and pressing your soul to Sans'.

It didn't happen right away. Your memories had to catch up to each other first. You and Sans hadn't done this in a few days, so there were more to go through than usual. After watching yourself visit some of your human friends and Sans going to his mundane classes, you heard his voice in your mind.

_Ready?_

You were. You reached for the magic that was always swirling around in the back of your mind, while Sans did the same. It took a minute, but you could feel something stirring. Like you were waking a sleeping dragon. 

When it happened, it was faster than the snap of a finger. Again, you made the mistake of opening both sets of eyes. They were glowing at first, but quickly died down as you allowed the magic to simmer to a mere buzz in your conjoined souls. Amused but baffled, you stared down at your connected hands. You hadn't expected this to happen a second time.

As usual, though, you were there for a purpose. It brought an uncomfortable pang of sadness to your heart. But, dutifully, you turned your double vision to the flashing shortcut in front of you. This _was_ important, regardless of how much it was starting to sting to be used as a mere tool. 

With your magic churning like a storm, you directed it to tug at the edges of the shortcut. Unlike the one in the barn, this one pulled against you, trying to close itself without your permission. You were too strong for it though, and simply yanked it open as wide as it would go. The strain of wielding so much magic made your bodies quake. You were afraid the human's heart might collapse if this went on for too long, so you tried to get it over with quickly.

With one more sharp pull, the shortcut folded in on itself. Unlike last time, you actually got to watch it explode... If only briefly. The force of the blast sent you rocketting backward, ripping your two souls apart and ending your existence abruptly.

You tried to scramble to your feet before you could even comprehend what was going on. As you should've probably expected, you merely stumbled and fell back to the floor instead. Your ears were ringing something awful. Slowly, you began to take in your surroundings. Papers fluttering to the ground. Black burn marks on the tiled floor. A stone statue of Mettaton lying sideways on the ground in several, distinct pieces. A face above you, saying words you couldn't hear...

"M'okay..." you assured Sans before you knew, yourself, if it was true. You pushed yourself up, leaning back on your hands so you were at least partially upright. Sans followed you up, his hand hovering behind your back to catch you should you fall.

The burn marks on the ground seemed to radiate out from a central point in the lobby. Lethargically, you raised your gaze until you were staring at that point. There was nothing there. You had no energy left to check if there were any shortcuts in the area, but you didn't need to. If it was still there, it would've been very obvious by its constant opening and closing.

"They did it..." you pointed out to Sans with a smile. He was so focused on you that he hadn't noticed the missing shortcut. He turned around from where he was crouched to look for it, and came to the same conclusion as you.

As if you'd needed any more evidence that Orion had solved the problem, the sickly groaning of the Core came to a slow, grinding halt. You and Sans were left in silence in the middle of the demolished hotel lobby.

That only lasted for a moment before the doors of the hotel were thrown open to reveal a pissed-off Mettaton.

"WHAT HAPPENED HERE?!? You..." Dramatically, he pointed an accusatory finger at the two of you, "YOU EXPLODED MY HOTEL!!!"

You and Sans looked at each other. You knew exactly what he was about to say by the dumb smile on his face. He gestured to the broken statue on the ground and said,

"If anything, we didja a favor... Now you've got an excuse to fix the fountain."

***

**January 1st, 2022**

***

You were in a familiar place. Your cell. The sea-green light from the forcefield bounced off of the wall you were staring at. You stood, petrified with fear, in the corner, your breaths coming heavy and quick. You felt like something bad had just happened, but you couldn't remember what.

"Reed!" You whirled around, your eyes wide. The first thing you saw was Hernandez's body slumped on the floor in the cell with you. The next was...

"Sans...?" you asked quietly, confused. He wasn't in your cell, but the one across from you. He was frantic; you watched as he paced the length of the cell, his eyes darting around as though he were looking for a weakness in the magical bars. When you responded to him, he lunged forward. His hand touched one of the bars, and he screamed.

"Sans!" you called more urgently. He jerked back and clutched his injured hand. You rushed forward, getting as close to your own bars as you could get. "Be careful, they burn..."

He wasn't supposed to be here. It was all wrong. You didn't want him to have to go through what you knew was soon to come, but you felt immediately helpless to save him. With staggering steps, you retreated back to your corner, your hands clenched in your hair as you slid slowly to the floor. 

"Babe... Snap out of it. Please, answer me..."

But you couldn't. You were hyperventilating. He was going to come back soon enough. He always came back, and you couldn't do a thing to stop it. Who would he take... You, or Sans?

You were about to find out. As soon as the thought of the inevitable entered your mind, you heard a door down the hallway creak open. Breathless screams left your mouth with every exhale. Panic-stricken magic buzzed in your brain with nowhere to go. You pressed yourself as far into the corner as you could, but you knew that nowhere was safe. You stared unseeingly at your friend's corpse while you listened to footsteps approaching your cell, still somehow audible over the fearful cries of you and Sans combined...

Suddenly, there was a spark of energy as both of you released the magic that had been building up between you. 

"Enough."

A wave of calm assuredness washed over you. You were no longer behind either set of bars, but standing in front of a mirror. The image of your winged, skeletal form was only marred by a set of thin, spindly cracks radiating out from a central point in the glass. You raised your hand and ran your talons over them, marveling at how realistic the cool glass felt under your fingers despite the fact that you were dreaming.

You breathed in deeply, watching your ribcage expand and contract with the automatic motion. You leaned further into the mirror until your forehead bumped against it. Searchingly, you stared into your own eyes, looking for something that wasn't there.

"Sorry for popping up like this," you said to yourself in a whisper that echoed louder than it had any right to through the empty, fake void. "I don't do it on purpose."

Radio silence. You didn't know what you'd expected. Even in your own dreams, you couldn't all exist at the same time.

You sighed. Your shoulders slumped, the tips of your wings sliding on the ground as they lowered to a limp, relaxed position. This had never happened while they were asleep before. They had fewer bad dreams nowadays, especially when they were sharing souls. If one of them slipped into a nightmare, usually the other would realize it was only a dream and snap them out of it. They'd certainly never felt so trapped that they used magic together in their sleep. 

Regardless of the fact that they couldn't hear you now, you continued with your message. They'd remember you saying it when they woke up. And you didn't know when you get the chance to deliver it again.

"I know you're afraid of me. You don't have to be. When I split your souls, I did it with the assumption that I would never return... At least not for a very long time," you amended. It was nice to think that this was all done and over with the moment you flipped that switch but, in reality, you'd always known you would be back eventually. Either through some emergency, or... Well. Humans didn't live forever. Skeletons did. And you knew Sans would never let Reed's soul go before his.

But the fact remained that you hadn't anticipated _this_. You hadn't expected to have moments of lucidity while they were both still alive. You'd expected to return in the distant future, not merely a couple years later.

"I want nothing from you. You know that already... This new development doesn't change anything. Actually..." You paused. You rarely ever felt unsure, but you did now. You closed your eyes and took a raspy breath before continuing,

"Try not to do this again. I would rather remain dormant. I understand that the Core was an emergency, but... Try. Please."

The fact was that, if you were going to be dead, then you wanted to stay dead. You didn't want your friends to have false hope that you were still going to be around to talk to them. Simultaneously, you didn't want to be brought out of insentience only to be used as a tool before being discarded again. What you wanted was to either be dead for all intents and purposes, or be back for good. None of this in-between nonsense.

You opened your eyes and searched your own expression again. Nothing... It was all just you. As you ran out of things you wanted to say, you felt the blackness of the void starting to creep up on you. You didn't fight it, but allowed the darkness of unconsciousness to wrap you in its embrace.

"Sleep well," you said, then fell away into nothing.

***

**January 2nd, 2022**

***

The stars were beautiful over Lake Carter. They didn't glisten off of the water... Not at this time of year. A thick layer of ice had completely encapsulated the lake, covered by a second layer of four-inch-deep snow. But, though they weren't reflected in the water, the stars were somehow enhanced by the winter scene. You felt safe underneath their light, especially with the Orion constellation burning high in the sky.

You stood on the shore, unwilling to test the thickness of the ice with your weight. You were bundled up from head to toe; far more encumbered by your winter gear than you would've chosen to be had Sans not pressured you into dressing warmer. Speaking of Sans, he could get away with wearing his usual sweatshirt and shorts combo. That bastard. 

He was still staring at the sky, but must've caught you smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. He turned to you with the kind of smooth, relaxed grin that never failed to remind you why you loved him.

"Let's do this," he said. You bit your lip and gazed out at the frozen lake again.

"I hope they like it..." They had specifically asked you not to do this, after all. But you couldn't let them go on thinking that you and Sans only thought of them as a tool. A means to an end. You didn't want that to be the impression you left. So you hoped this act was seen as the gift it was meant to be, and not as a violation of their wishes.

"Hey." Sans took a step toward you before reaching out to touch your chin. His bones were cold on your skin as he gently turned your head to look at him. "They're gonna know why we're doin' this. And when they get the meaning behind it, they'll like it."

You nodded. You already knew that, but it helped to hear Sans say it. Reverently, you extended your hand to touch Sans' chest. You started at the top of his sternum and trailed down with your fingertips. Your soul hummed with satisfaction when you felt him shiver under your touch. You knew it couldn't have been from the cold. You took the zipper of his sweatshirt between your fingertips and pulled it down, then took off the glove of your left hand in a slow, purposeful motion. This left only one layer - San's thin t-shirt - between your gloved hand and his bones.

"May I?" you asked while pressing your palm to his ribs once more. He put a hand on your hip just to draw you closer to him.

"Of course."

He never said "always" anymore, nor did he insist that you needn't have asked. You both knew better than that. But, with those mistakes made and forgiven, the permission granted felt even more meaningful these days than it ever used to. 

You retracted your hand, and Sans' soul followed eagerly as though chasing after you. You always loved watching his expression as he saw his own soul. The only word to describe it was "contented." His expression relaxed and his shoulders slumped. You weren't the only one who had once struggled with self-image, so it warmed you to see evidence that you were both improving little by little.

Sans gave you a similar treatment in return, though it was a little silly when you were wearing so many layers. You couldn't even feel his touch as he ran a hand down your side, then circled back up to trace your stomach before resting on your chest. He opened his mouth, but you anticipated his question before he could ask it.

"Go for it." His teeth snapped back together, and you chuckled. He dipped his head in acknowledgement before drawing his hand back and bringing your soul out to join his.

Before you could really appreciate the spectacular reflections of the purple and white lights off of the snow, your souls crashed together. It wasn't intentional; it was like they were drawn to each other magnetically. You gasped as they collided, and scenes began flashing between your shared minds.

There was little in the way of memories to be shared. You just did this last night, after all. You simply relived the experience of waking up in your room to find your furniture tipped over and picture frames busted as they had been slammed into the walls by your nightmare-induced magic. The rest of the day had been largely uneventful, with the exception of the discussion you and Sans had together that had led you to the lake tonight.

"We should do something for Orion," you heard yourself say in Sans' memory, "It's not right... I don't want them to think that we don't care..."

"I know what you mean, and I have an idea..."

 _Ready?_ Sans asked once the two of you were all caught up. 

_I'm ready._

The two of you drew from your magical stores... Which, interestingly, felt like they resided in different places for each of you. You always felt your magic as a tingle in the back of your head, while Sans tended to feel it gathering in his ribcage. Regardless, you both unleashed the energy together simultaneously.

When you, Orion, came to, you were surrounded by falling snow. Whatever untargeted magic your two halves released had kicked up all of the snow in a circle around you. Through two sets of eyes (a perspective which you were beginning to grow accustomed to), you watched the flakes fall and settle back on the ground. You felt as if you were in the center of a snowglobe.

It took you a moment to get your bearings. To realize where you were and why. When you did, you laughed. The rumbling chortles came from both bodies, but one mind.

Of course, you understood what was going on here. How could you not, when you had all of their memories? They wanted to give you a chance to exist alone, away from your well-meaning friends, without any particular purpose. It was a message, as clear as if they had written it down for you. They cared for you. It was clear from your self-sacrifice that you cared for them (at least, you hoped that was obvious by now), but the feeling was mutual. Message, received. 

However, you hesitated before ending the experience. You'd said you didn't want to be brought back again, and you'd meant it. You didn't want or need more of these little outings. You would have your time eventually, and so it would have been selfish to demand more of theirs. You appreciated it on this one occasion, but you hoped that, after tonight, they wouldn't do this again.

...So, if this time was really going to be the last, you should make the most of it then, no?

With difficulty, you maneuvered your two bodies so they were both seated on the powdery snow. From your human half, you felt the biting cold of the evening, winter wind searing the flesh on your face. You would have to keep this short for their sake. You would limit yourself to only a few minutes of their life.

You spent the time simply staring up at the stars, tracing with your four eyes the constellation for which you were named. The raging balls of fire in the cold, uncaring blackness of space that happened to align as twinkling lights in the shape of a distant hunter in the earthen sky. In that time, you were...

Well. You supposed the only word to describe it was "content."

***  
***

What is the evidence against this stuck point?: Orion decided to give their life for us, so who am I to question their decision? Sans and I have family who would love and miss us if we were gone, too. And we all make mistakes... Orion included.

What can I tell myself in the future?: I deserve to live just as much as Orion does. Their death may not have been fair, but it was what they wanted. And besides... 

They aren't really dead, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die._


	3. Session #2 - All or Nothing

**June 26th, 2020**

As you'd suspected, the theater was packed. The day after Sans asked you out, you went to your parent's house to use their wifi to pre-order the tickets. You barely got them on time; there were only a few options left for two people sitting together. Luckily, one of those options included an aisle seat, which you snatched up immediately. You didn't want Sans to have to sit next to anyone... You couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be some shitty, human rights activists in the seats next to you. Better to at least put yourself between them and Sans, if it came down to that. If he asked why you chose such bad seats, you figured you could just claim that those were the only ones left and leave it at that. 

On Friday, Sans showed up at your house to collect you at the agreed time of 7:00 PM on the dot. He was consistently late to appointments... Except when it was a date with you. In addition, he actually knocked on the door rather than simply appearing out of thin air in your living room. You weren't sure why he did that now, since he used to let himself in a few weeks ago when the two of you were just friends. At any rate, it gave you a moment to fluff your hair with your hand before answering the door.

"Hey," Sans said as he leaned sideways on the doorframe. He took a hand out of his pocket and waved the lanyard between his fingers. "Got the pass, thankfully. These babies are a hot commodity."

You breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had you almost missed out on the tickets, but Sans had been having trouble getting a day pass all week. There were only a certain number of them available at a time, which was for the humans' protection as well as the monsters'. Not only did the limit prevent mass gatherings of monsters on the surface, but it allowed the human authorities to keep better track of where the monsters were in case any jerks gave them trouble. The problem was that, now that the passes had been in place for a while and there had yet to be any incidents with them, the monsters who still lived underground were starting to use them more. It was a good thing, but not when you wanted to go someplace with your friends and all of the passes were booked for three weeks in advance. You had to admit, you were guilty of taking your friends out of camp a couple times without a pass. It was so easy to do with your shortcuts. It was what you would've done today if Sans hadn't been able to get one.

"How'd you get it?" you asked while bending down to slip on your shoes.

"It pays to be friends with the guards. Someone cancelled their trip, so Charlie gave theirs to me." You looked up in time to see Sans wink. You rolled your eyes.

"So you cut in front of the waiting list, huh? Classy." You were mostly joking, but you had to recognize that it _was_ kind of unfair. 

"You know me... I'm a rebel without a cause." You snorted, but elected not to comment on that. There was no nice way to say that Sans was perhaps the least rebellious person you knew. Not because he liked following the rules, necessarily... But, in his eyes, it was too much work to bother breaking them.

The two of you walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the street, making meaningless small-talk as you went. When you got near the dog guard's house, you felt a little twitch of magic in the back of your mind. So you weren't surprised when Sans put a hand on your back to steer you into a shortcut you couldn't see.

You ended up in the far back corner of a large parking lot. You walked out between two parked cars to see the theater outlined by the sunset in the distance. Sans apologized for the walk, but you waved him off. Better to get a little tired walking across the lot than to appear right next to the front door and risk being seen using magic. 

Upon walking into the theater, you were immediately excited. You hadn't been to a movie in... Damn, it had to be years. Before you fell into the Underground. You missed the smell of overpriced popcorn and the tacky, colored carpet that probably hadn't been replaced since the 70s. You looked down at Sans joyously. Your sudden enthusiasm made him laugh.

"Want popcorn?" he asked as you plugged in the code to get your tickets.

"Hell yeah." You didn't usually buy snacks at the theater... Stopping at the dollar store beforehand and sneaking them in was more your style. But you'd bought the tickets, so it was only fair that Sans feed you the good stuff in return. 

However, even though Sans was getting the better deal by buying the snacks, you still felt a little bad as he dug around in his pockets for the money he'd gotten converted ahead of time. It wasn't such a big deal in the human world where, due to the conversion rate, everything was ridiculously cheap compared to the Underground. But you knew Sans didn't have much money to his name, and it was kind of partially your fault. With your ambassador job, you'd been the sole provider for both of you back when you'd been together the first time. You hadn't even thought about it at the time, but you'd stopped splitting your money with him when you went separate ways. To make matters worse, the money Sans had worked hard to save in the previous timeline was nonexistent after the last reset. He'd had nothing to his name, and nothing coming in.

Since resuming your friendship, you'd learned that Sans had eventually gone back to running his hotdog stand. That didn't make him much, so he did comedy shows at Mettaton's hotel once in a blue moon. But the fickle robot didn't want to work him into a regular schedule. He didn't talk about it, but you imagined Sans probably had to rely on Papyrus to help him out whenever he went through a dry spell of not getting a gig for a couple weeks.

You tried not to feel guilty as money, popcorn, and drinks changed hands. It was just ten bucks... A small expense in the grand scheme of things. But combine that with other stuff he'd bought for you on previous dates and... Well... Maybe you should insist on paying for more in the future.

You put it from your mind as you and Sans meandered down the hallway, making fun of the movie posters you passed on your way. But the lightheartedness was soon to end. With everything else that had been occupying your mind from the moment Sans had asked you to come here to now, it had never even occurred to you that putting yourself in a dark, enclosed space might cause some problems.

The extent of the issue wasn't immediately apparent. The theater was large enough that, with the dim lights illuminating it, the room made you feel only mildly claustrophobic. You figured it was the lack of windows that did it. If there had been some way for you to see outside, you wouldn't have felt so trapped. But, of course, that would've defeated the point of a theater. You would just have to suck it up and try to push past it. 

You trailed behind Sans as the two of you ascended the stairs, your eyes darting nervously around the room. You located the two emergency exits right away and, as you walked, kept looking over your shoulder to steal glances at them. You were so distracted by your less than ideal situation that you didn't notice Sans sitting in the wrong seat until it was too late. With him walking in front of you, it was logical that he would leave the aisle seat for you. You should've realized that, but now he was already sitting down. It would've been awkward to ask him to move, so, after a pause, you reluctantly took the aisle seat for yourself.

"Man, this place is pretty packed, huh?" Sans attempted to engage you in conversation, which alerted you to the fact that you'd been awfully quiet for the past couple minutes. You overcompensated by blurting out,

"Oh, yeah! I figured it would be. Star Wars is... pretty good..." You were aware that you should look at Sans while you talked to him, but you were unable to tear your gaze away from the glowing red exit sign. What if the sign was lying? What if the door was actually locked from the outside? You settled your cane between your knees and clutched your ice cold soda with both hands in an effort to hide your trembling fingers.

Sans said something in response, but you didn't hear it. You hummed in agreement, which seemed to have been an appropriate response since he didn't question it. At that point, you were distracted even further by people shuffling into their seats behind you. A fearful shiver ran down your spine. Although your fellow movie-goers were, as far as you could tell, completely benign, you didn't like the sound of anything being that close at your back. You twisted around in your seat to look at them, but quickly turned back around when you realized how weird that was. Your desire to constantly be on alert and checking your surroundings for potential dangers conflicted with the need to appear normal.

Suddenly, something small hit you in the right side of your face. You looked around just in time to see a kernel of popcorn fall harmlessly to the floor. You narrowed your eyes at Sans, who was getting ready to flick another kernel at you. Quickly, he tried to save face by tossing the popcorn into his mouth.

"Wasn't me," he insisted. You rolled your eyes, ducked your hand into the bucket, and stuffed your face with a handful of popcorn.

"I'll let it slide this ONE time," you warned, trying to sound as threatening as possible with a full mouth. He gave you a wide, innocent grin in response. If you weren't in public, you would've started an all-out food fight, no questions asked. At least you had a little decorum, unlike _some_ people.

You weren't sure if it was intentional, but Sans' goofing around helped to ground you. You were still tense, but not so much that you were anticipating an attack at any moment. The subsequent banter lasted through the rest of the advertisements... Until the trailers started up. That was when things took another turn for the worse.

When the already dim lights went down, it changed something fundamental about the theater. Now it wasn't just a windowless room, but a _dark_ windowless room. Your heart rate skyrocketed as you could no longer clearly see a path to the exit. Sans wasn't talking to you anymore, either, since he was watching the screen. Your distraction was gone. 

With so many people sitting around you in silence, listening to the trailer for some horror flick... You felt like you were being suffocated. You needed space. You leaned forward, halfway into the aisle as you gasped for air. Something was pressing on your chest, preventing you from taking a deep breath. 

From the front of the room came the sound of a door creaking open. You huddled in on yourself. You _knew_ it was just coming from the trailer, not real life. But knowing that didn't stop the dread from washing over you. Like an egg being cracked over your head, the terror trickled down your body, causing every muscle to tense along the way. 

"What's wrong?" _Damn_ it. You didn't want Sans to see you like this. Logically, you know that _he_ knew that you still had some issues. It was kind of impossible for anyone even remotely close to you not to know. But still, you felt compelled to keep him from witnessing this stuff. Maybe actually seeing it happen would remind him why he left you in the first place...

"Be right back," you murmured before practically leaping out of your seat. You kept your head down and eyes on the floor as you fast-walked toward the exit. In your haste to get out, you didn't even bring your cane. You almost tripped over your own feet twice before making it into the hallway.

Once there, you veered sharply right and used your whole body to push open one of the back doors to the theater. You knew you wouldn't be able to get back in this way if you let it close, so you merely stuck your head out to breathe in the fresh air. It was immediately helpful. Relieved, you slumped against the door, pressing your temple against the cool glass. The feeling of something sitting on your chest abated, and you were left merely exhausted from the mild panic attack.

The sound of another door being thrown open behind you made you flinch. You looked over your shoulder to see Sans, who was holding your cane in one hand. His head whipped around until he found you. He jogged over to you, which was how you knew he was worried. He rarely ever ran. Before you could say anything, he babbled,

"Sorry, woulda been here sooner, but some asshole stopped me and wanted to see my pass... You okay? What happened?"

"I'm good now," you mumbled to the floor as blood rushed to your cheeks. When you didn't answer the second question, Sans prompted you further.

"What was it? Somethin' about the trailer...?" 

Shit. You'd kind of been hoping you could pass it off as just an upset stomach, but it seemed like he already knew. No point in trying to lie.

"Kinda..." Your face was burning with embarrassment. You didn't want to talk about this. Sans paused, as though trying to decide how best to proceed. In the end, he asked you,

"Wanna go back in, or no? I don't mind if you don't... We can go do somethin' else. Or go back home. S'all good." As if to emphasize his point, he reached out slowly and touched your arm. When you didn't flinch, he rubbed circles into your forearm with his thumb. Although you didn't always like to be touched in times like these, you found it comforting this time.

The thought of going back into the theater made you shudder. Following that was a pang of sadness that struck your chest like a physical blow. It wasn't just the derailed date that was upsetting you, but the realization that movie theaters were forever ruined for you. You used to love going to the movies. Now, you had to add it to the list of situations you needed to avoid. Mirrors, elevators, echoey rooms, people standing behind you, anything touching your head... And how many more triggers had yet to be discovered?

"Can we go somewhere else?" you asked, defeated.

"'Course," Sans said with a forced grin. Still touching your arm, he held out your cane to you. "Wanna go for a stroll? See where we end up...?"

You nodded, took your cane from him, and pushed the door the rest of the way open. Heedless of anyone who might've been watching, Sans walked outside after you and took your hand in his. You couldn't lie; the hand holding made you feel just a little bit better.

The walk outside did you some good. It was a beautiful, summer evening... Warm, but not yet so hot that it was uncomfortable. With the cool breeze bringing the fresh smell of the nearby mountain down to the city, you started feeling more relaxed the further you got from the theater. Once you got closer to the downtown area, you and Sans were forced to let go of each other and put your hands in your pockets, as there were too many people walking around on the sidewalks. But, by that point, you didn't need the physical contact anymore. 

When you warned Sans that you were starting to get sore from the walking, the two of you ducked into the first establishment you came across that was still open in the evening. That happened to be a tiny, hole-in-the-wall, used CD store. This was unfortunate because, although you knew you had to sit still and rest, you wanted nothing more than to explore the little shop. Reluctantly, you asked the lone worker if she had anywhere for you to sit, and she procured a stool for you from behind the counter. You sat back and directed Sans to search for certain bands for you. Eventually, the worker got involved, too, and you and her teamed up in an effort to discern Sans' tastes in music and find a band he might like. No other customers ever entered the store, and the worker seemed cool with Sans, so it was a pretty good time. Not what you had expected to do that night, but fun.

After leaving the store with a few CDs you didn't need for yourself and one for Sans, it was getting quite late. You still hadn't eaten though, so you scoured the nearby area for a place to eat that wasn't a bar. McDonalds seemed like as good an option as any to you, but Sans said he wanted to take you somewhere "classier." When he led you across the street to Denny's, you couldn't hold back a snorting laugh.

It was probably a good choice, actually. No one who was at Denny's this late at night had any business judging you or your monster date. The two of you were ravenous; you scarfed down your grand slams in record time. You joked that the waitress was afraid of your raw, speed-eating power. Truthfully, she was probably just frightened by Sans, but coming up with dumb reasons for people's understandably put-off reactions was funnier than accepting the reality.

In the end, the date wasn't a total flop. You still had a good time despite not seeing the movie. However, when Sans kissed you goodbye and left you on your doorstep at the end of the night... You couldn't help feeling like you'd been a burden on him.

Once alone, you let out a long sigh. Alphys and Undyne were already in bed, so the house was dark and quiet. You tried to keep it that way as you crept across the living room and into the bathroom. You made sure your eyes were shut tight before you entered so you wouldn't see your reflection in the mirror. It was such an ingrained habit by now... You didn't even think about it. You were skilled enough at navigating the bathroom blindly that you didn't have to open your eyes even once.

After taking a quick shower, you went straight to your room. With a purpose, you snatched up the folded papers from your nightstand. They had been lying there, untouched, since Monday. You kept finding reasons to postpone your therapy homework, but the incident at the theater made you realize that you were going to have to just buckle up and get it done. You didn't want to keep living like this... You couldn't see how this homework was going to help, but you had to believe you would understand eventually. 

So it was with a sort of wary determination that you flipped the page detailing your assignment over and started writing.

***

**June 29th, 2020**

***

"Welcome back," You looked up as a door opened and a familiar face crossed the threshold of the dimly lit, windowless room. Shelly smiled down at you on the couch, her expression warm and inviting. "I'm glad to see I didn't scare you off with our first session."

You weren't sure if she was joking or not. You laughed weakly and rubbed the back of your neck.

"Yeah... Not quite."

Before taking a seat, Shelly handed you a clipboard. On it was a single sheet of paper with a familiar series of questions. 

"We're going to start every session by taking the same assessment as last time. This'll help me track your progress. You probably won't improve right away... But if you're not showing any improvement by around session six or so, we might need to try a different approach."

You nodded, then began filling out the questionnaire while Shelly flipped through some of the other papers she'd brought with her. You didn't remember exactly how you'd answered the questions last time, but you felt like you weren't answering them any differently now. When you handed the completed assessment back to Shelly, she didn't total up your scores on the spot like last time. Instead, she merely set it aside and scooted her rolling chair closer to you.

"So how've you been, Reed?"

"Alright," you said, unsure if that was a lie or not. Feeling bold, you added, "I went on a date with my boyfriend." Shelly smiled brightly and, as you'd hoped she would, asked,

"Oh! Who's your boyfriend?"

"His name's Sans. He's a monster," you declared fiercely, your tone of voice coming across as daring. You'd been told by Reives that you could tell your therapist anything... This was the first real test.

Shelly passed. She didn't seem at all surprised by the monster thing, but simply followed up with another question,

"How long have you two been together?" You blinked, unsure how to answer that. You were beginning to regret inviting this conversation.

"Oh, well... Um... We were dating before this, but we... Took a break. We've only been back together for three weeks."

"Right before you came to me, huh?" She smiled slyly. "Are the two events related, maybe?" You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, thinking about your answer carefully before speaking.

"I guess, kinda. I mean, he doesn't know I'm here, but... Us getting back together is one of the reasons I wanted to... Really make an effort to start getting better. I don't want to mess it up..." The "again" at the end of that sentence went unspoken. 

It startled you a little when Shelly paused to write something down. You hadn't been aware that the therapy had started. At what point had the small talk ended and the counseling begun? 

"Why doesn't Sans know you're here?" The question was posed nonchalantly, but it felt like a punch to the gut. Your mind went blank. You couldn't think of a way to answer that without diving deep into the intricacies of your complicated relationship. 

When it became clear that you weren't going to speak, Shelly prompted you, "Do you not trust him?"

"No! I mean yes, I trust him," you answered hastily while crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive position. "I do, I just..." When, again, you fell silent, she asked,

"Do you have trouble opening up to people?"

You simply nodded in response, now unable to meet her gaze. You heard her write something down. You gulped, but your mouth was dry.

"I'm starting to see that, myself." You were so surprised by her teasing tone of voice that you looked up. Sure enough, she was smiling tentatively at you. You laughed incredulously and rubbed the back of your neck again. When you realized you were doing it, you quickly dropped your hand and clenched both of them around the body of the cane between your knees.

"Yeah... Sorry about that." She waved you off.

"No need to apologize. We'll work on it."

That sounded more foreboding than comforting to you, so you said nothing. Shelly marked one more thing in her notes before leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, the chair creaking as she did so.

"So, how did the homework go?"

"Um..." You reached out to grab a black folder off of the end table. You'd gone out and bought it for yourself when you realized that you were likely going to have a lot of papers to keep track of. You opened it and dug out the assignment from last week. "It went well..."

The strain in your voice betrayed the fact that you were lying. In truth, it had been just as difficult as you'd expected, and you weren't sure you'd done it right. The instructions had been remarkably sparse. You felt like you hadn't written enough, yet your nerves had been so frayed by the time you put down the pencil that you couldn't have brought yourself to write more if you wanted to.

"I'd like you to read it aloud, if you would please."

You clenched your teeth. You hadn't expected to have to read it _out loud._ You'd been under the impression that you'd be able to turn it in and wash your hands of it. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach. You were tempted to refuse, but you had to remind yourself of the promise you'd made at the beginning. There was probably a reason Shelly was making you read it, so it would be prudent to follow her instructions.

"Okay..." You cleared your throat. You purposely set the paper on your lap rather than holding it up, just so that you could keep your head bowed as you read,

"I believe the event occured because a lot of people made a lot of bad decisions. There were things I could've done to stop it before it happened, but I didn't have enough information and I wasn't proactive enough to seek it out." You looked up at Shelly, then quickly looked back down when you saw her staring at you. You continued, "I don't feel safe anymore. I don't trust strangers. I used to think I controlled my own fate, but I know now that sometimes, people can just do things to you and you can't stop them. There's always someone stronger than you. Control and power are illusions. I don't have good self-esteem, especially when I think about what happened to my soul. Sometimes I feel like there's still something wrong with it, even though I know everything's back to normal now."

You finished reading the last section quickly, getting it over with as soon as possible. You didn't stop to explain the soul thing, but just plowed right through as though hoping Shelly wouldn't question that. You realized at the end that you hadn't even talked about intimacy like you were supposed to. By the time you'd finished writing on Friday night, you'd been so frazzled that you hadn't checked to make sure you got everything that was in the instructions. That tiny paragraph had taken you nearly an hour to pen, as it was.

Your words hung between you and Shelly for a moment. She tilted her head and stared at the clipboard on her lap. Finally, she looked up and asked the million dollar question,

"What happened to you, Reed?"

You didn't even try to answer this time. You knew you wouldn't be able to. Methodically, you folded and unfolded the corner of the paper in your hands. You stared blankly at the bookshelf, reading a few titles on the books' spines before redirecting the question.

"How much did Reives tell you?" you asked almost desperately. You _needed_ to know what she already knew about you. Not because you had any intention of filling in the blanks... Though you would let her think that if it got her to tell you. No, it was simply driving you mad not knowing what Shelly knew. You couldn't explain why it bothered you so much. It felt akin to having to face your friends for the first time after separating from Orion, knowing what they'd told them about you...

"Only a little," Shelly admitted, though her answer was vague. "I think I know the basics, but what I know doesn't matter. I'll tell you a little secret." She rolled up closer to you... Close enough that your knees were almost touching. You still couldn't find it in you to look her in the eyes. "The point of all this isn't to force you to talk to me about it. It's to get you _thinking_ about it. All of those issues you've been having... The anxiety, the dissociation... It's all a result of you refusing to think about what happened. When you're faced with a reminder of the event, your brain goes into panic mode. You need to let yourself think about it here, in a controlled environment, so that you won't feel the need to defend yourself against the thoughts when they come up outside of this room."

Your heart pounded in your chest. You ground your teeth together and balled your hands into fists. Your eyes stung with tears, more out of frustration with yourself than anything else.

"But... If I talk about it here... I'm just gonna break down before I can get anything out. It's just... safer to avoid it..."

"So have a breakdown," Shelly said. The simplicity of the statement shocked you. "I know that's not pleasant, but isn't it better to try and fail than to not try at all? That's why you came here, isn't it? To try?"

You nodded, though your lips remained tightly pressed together. Shelly's chair squeaked as she reached back to grab something from her desk. When she placed a box of tissues on your lap, it was like your body had been given permission to cry. The tears started to flow, and you pulled out a tissue and dabbed your eyes with it angrily.

"I just wanna forget any of this ever happened," you declared heatedly. Shelly didn't say anything to that. At least she didn't try to convince you that what you'd gone through had made you a stronger person, or some bullshit. You might've walked out if she had. She gave you a minute to cry in silence before saying,

"Let's take a step back. You said that you could've done more to prevent what happened. Do you believe it was your fault?"

You hated this. You didn't want to do it anymore. How much time was left? You tried to look at your watch, but your vision was too blurry to see the hands of the analog device.

"I don't know..." 

"Okay... Well, who _is_ at fault?"

"I..." You lowered your arms to hug yourself around the stomach. "I guess... Gaster..." you choked out the name, then shuddered when you felt fingertips brushing the back of your neck. You swatted them away... First physically with your hand, then mentally with a flare of magic in your mind. It was just in your head...

"Gaster is the one who hurt you?"

You winced. You clutched your own arms tight enough that your fingernails dig into your skin. You unclenched them before you could hurt yourself, but your now idle hands simply started scratching your chest instead. Shelly noticed right away.

"What are you doing, Reed?" Her tone of voice was carefully neutral. Instead of answering, you pleaded,

"Can we take a break, please?" Your voice cracked. Shelly leaned far back in her chair thoughtfully.

"Sure. I'll total up your score from the assessment you took earlier, then we'll move onto something else. Does that sound good?"

You nodded hastily. Your scratching came to a slow halt, and you let your hand fall back onto your lap. Only once that happened did Shelly turn around to start silently grading your questionnaire. It took a lot longer for her to add up your scores this time... Which was probably on purpose. You had a couple minutes to wipe your eyes and still your trembling fingers. As soon as she stopped hearing your ragged breathing, she wheeled back over to you and started afresh.

"Alright... So you read those handouts I gave you last time, correct?"

"Y-yes," you stammered, relieved that she really was changing the subject like she said she would. You kind of expected her to start grilling you about the event again.

"I'd like to talk about PTSD with you in a little more detail, if you don't mind..."

With that, Shelly began walking you through one of the handouts, expanding on its bullet-pointed list of causes and symptoms. None of it was surprising to you; you really had read the handouts, like you said you would. You suspected Shelly was going through it again simply to bring your heart rate down. It worked well enough. By the time you had moved onto the stuck points handout, your eyes were dry and you felt much calmer.

"Part of your homework each week will be to start identifying your stuck points on your own," Shelly explained, "But let's try it together this first time... Sound good?" 

You nodded. You were starting to notice she asked you that a lot. She handed you a stack of half-sheets of paper. They were mostly comprised of blank space, with only four, short questions on each one. 

"There are a lot of different ways you could attack your stuck points, but I think it's important to master these simple worksheets first and then go from there. The first question just asks you to identify your stuck point... So, keeping in mind what we've talked about, I want you to try to come up with one right now. It doesn't have to be about the event... It can be any thought you've had that's been holding you back."

You tapped the end of the pencil on the paper thoughtfully. There was one thing that had been on your mind recently. You didn't think it was bothering you as much anymore after that first fateful date with Sans, but it was all you could think of at the moment. It took you another minute to figure out how you wanted to phrase it. When you were done, you looked up at Shelly questioningly. She held out her hand.

"Can I see?" Wordlessly, you handed the paper over. You were pretty sure you knew what Shelly's next question would be, but you still felt a flutter of anxiety when she asked, "Who's Orion?"

Nervous laughter bubbled out of your throat. Maybe you should've written something easier to explain. Too late now, though. Besides, you were sure you would have to talk about Orion eventually, regardless. Might as well start now.

"They're, uh... Okay. So, you know that magic exists, right? Like, Reives told you that?" Shelly leaned back and crossed her left leg over her right. She nodded while folding her hands in her lap, your stuck point still held between her fingers. 

"Yes, I was made aware."

"Okay, cool. Well, the basis for how magic works is that everyone has a... a soul. You've probably never seen yours, but you have one. So do I, and so do monsters... I mean, theirs are a little different, but, um..." You realized you were rambling, but it was kind of hard not to. Shelly had such a good poker face; you couldn't tell what she was thinking. She looked interested but, beyond that... You had no clue if she believed you or not. "Anyway. It's super rare, but sometimes a human and a monster can... combine their souls. Sans and I did that, and Orion is... _was_... the product."

You studied Shelly's expression to see if she was getting any of this, but her face remained frustratingly neutral. She nodded slowly, but you still couldn't discern what she was thinking. Annoyed at the ambiguity and feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, you scoffed defensively, "Forget it. You don't believe me."

"Of course I do," Shelly was quick to interject. "I believe everything you believe."

"That doesn't mean _you_ believe it, though."

"Like I said earlier," Shelly started as she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward again, "It doesn't matter what I know or believe. What matters is that _you_..." she emphasized the word while holding up the paper in her hand, "...believe Orion should be alive in your place. What makes you think that?"

"I don't know," you said, now agitated, "I guess they just... They fixed a lot of problems that I created, then went and... _died_ just so that I could come back and be all... messed-up again." You gestured to yourself with an exasperated hand motion.

"Write it down," Shelly instructed as she handed the paper back to you, pointing to the second question. As you scribbled down a summary of what you'd said, she asked, "So you believe your PTSD symptoms make your life worth less than someone else's?" Your pencil stilled on the page.

"Well..." 

"You're not the only person in the world with these issues," Shelly continued, hardly giving you time to think, "Do you think their lives are worth less because of it?"

"No," you said firmly. You didn't personally know anyone else with PTSD, but you didn't have to in order to answer that question. You had human friends with other mental illnesses... Depression and anxiety were common in college students, after all. Of course, you knew their problems didn't detract from who they were as people, so you assumed the same sentiment could be extended to people with other mental problems that you were perhaps less familiar with.

"Then why do you hold yourself to a different standard?" You looked down at the paper and reread what you'd written.

"I guess I shouldn't," you mumbled in admittance. When you looked back at Shelly, she was smiling.

"See how it works? Those negative, all-or-nothing beliefs you've been carrying around are irrational. All it takes is a little logical thought to disprove them. But you have to be open to thinking about them in the first place. We want to get you to a point where you can do that on your own."

That... made some sense, actually. You didn't know if you felt _better_ necessarily, but it was something you'd have to think about. You stared down at the other questions on the page, at which point Shelly said,

"I think you can fill the rest of the sheet out on your own. We're getting close to the end of our time today." You glanced at the clock and, sure enough, it was about time to leave. "In fact, not only do I want you to finish that, but for your homework this week I'd like you to do this for one stuck point every day. And no saving this until the last minute... It'll benefit you more if you work on it a little bit each night, rather than rushing to get it done the day before." She fixed you with a knowing look, which left you wondering if she somehow knew that you'd procrastinated a little on your previous assignment.

"Will do," you said, and you meant it. These stuck point worksheets didn't seem too bad. Not as hard as the impact statement, anyway. 

"Great." Shelly stood, and you followed suit. "I'll see you next week, then."

"See you."

Shelly held the door open for you, to which you murmured your thanks before limping down the hallway. Absentmindedly, you bid the receptionist a good day before walking out the front doors, the folder tucked under your left arm now slightly bulkier than it had been when you walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The format of the fic should be pretty clear now... The odd numbered chapters will take place right after TAR with these therapy sessions, while the even numbered chapters will skip around all over the place and be related to different stuck points of Reed's. The even numbered chapters will probably all be quite long, like the last one. They're meant to be self-contained one-shots... So what I'm trying to say is that the wait between odd and even chapters will be a bit long. 
> 
> I also just recently got a full-time job, so I'm super excited about that, buuuuuuut I'll have less time to write. I've been pretty good about sticking to my 1,000 word/day goal so far, but there certainly won't be any chapters coming out back-to-back on the same day anymore like there was occasionally in TAR. Sorry about that!


	4. Oxycodone

Stuck Point: Sans will leave me when times start getting tough again.

What is the evidence for this stuck point?: When I'm thinking straight, I know this isn't true. But whenever something bad happens and I have to break the news to him, I can't stop myself from remembering what happened after Gaster. How bad would it have to get for him to leave again? How much is he willing to put up with?

***  
***

**March 19th, 2022**

***

"NGHAAAA!!!" Undyne shouted dramatically as she hurled a spear in your direction. You swiped it out of the air with a quick lash of your whip, a huge grin on your face as you did so. 

"Gonna have to try harder than that!" you taunted her. She'd been trying to hit you for ages now, to no avail. You supposed you were taking a leaf out of Sans' book by simply dodging over and over again rather than attacking. You didn't usually belabor the point like this, but it was just so easy to get Undyne riled up. 

Your opponent redoubled her efforts. You simply swung your chain whip around windmill-style in a circle in front of you to obliterate the volley of spears. When they started attacking you from behind, you opened a shortcut at your back that would swallow the weapons and spit them back out at their maker. Of course, they didn't hurt her, but they did obscure her vision somewhat as they passed right through her face harmlessly. If you hadn't been so committed to being an insufferable little shit, that was when you would've attacked. But you continued to stand your ground stubbornly, interested to see how far you could take this.

Papyrus, who was watching from the bench, cackled at your antics. He certainly found it amusing when he wasn't the one being teased. If he'd been in the arena with you, however, you were sure you'd have to endure double the screams of indignation. Undyne wasn't going to want to spar with you for a good while after this, that was for sure.

Just when you thought you were covered on all sides, a rumble underfoot alerted you to a danger you'd forgotten about. You were forced to dodge sideways before a field of spears erupted underneath you. You were exposed in your new location for a moment, but you kept up the momentum of your chain and quickly made a new shortcut behind you. Your eye flashed blue right as an orange spear was about to hit you between the shoulder blades. Instead, it soared through Undyne's chest. She yelled wordlessly again.

"FINE! If you won't come to me, then I'll just have to come to YOU!" 

You weren't at all prepared for what she did next. You hadn't even considered that, although you were the one holding the shortcut open, that didn't mean other people couldn't walk through it if they knew where it was. Although Undyne couldn't see it, she understood your shortcuts well enough to dive toward where the spear had appeared in front of her. Before you could figure out what she was doing, she had already disappeared. From that point, it was only a split second before she was suddenly barrelling into you from behind. 

A surprised yelp escaped you as you were swept off your feet. You lost your grip on both your whip and your cane. The former disintegrated as soon as it left your hand, while the latter hit the matted ground with a dull _thud_. Your stomach dropped as Undyne lifted you above her shoulder, then followed your momentum down. Papyrus shouted something from the sidelines, but it was too late. You were being suplexed. Briefly, you felt wind at the back of your head as you were thrown to the ground at a dizzying speed...

_CRRRRRACK!_

You gasped. You would've screamed, had all of the air not been forced out of your lungs upon impact with the floor. Something had snapped, that much was immediately apparent. Your hands figured it out before your brain; they immediately went to clutch your left thigh. For a moment, your world narrowed down to just your own body. Stabbing pain shot out from your hip like a constant, unrelenting current of electricity. Your back arched involuntarily as a shaky, breathless whimper escaped you.

You didn't feel the hands on you until several seconds later. Through watery eyes, you saw a familiar, finned face hovering above you.

"Ohmygod are you okay??? Holy shit, I'm so fucking sorry..." She was holding onto your shoulder for some reason. You would feel bad later for shoving her away from you, but you only wanted one person.

" _Pap,_ " you gasped, going right back to clutching your leg as soon as you got Undyne off of you. You needed a healer, not well-meaning concern. You'd been injured before while sparring... Mostly back when you'd been training daily to prepare for fighting Gaster. Those had all been relatively minor, though. Your joints dislocated easily. This time, though, something had to have broken.

Papyrus didn't say a word. He simply sprinted into the arena, shoving poor Undyne aside along the way. He skidded on his knees as he knelt down next to you, placing confident, steady hands over the area you were holding. You felt the warm glow of his healing magic, and...

Nothing. The pain didn't abate. It ebbed to a dull ache while his hands were on you but, as soon as he backed off, it returned in full force. You moaned and shut your eyes tight, helpless against the stabbing agony in your hip.

"Sibling? Didn't it work???"

"What do you think?" you snapped irritably, then regretted it immediately. You didn't know why the healing hadn't worked, but you were sure it wasn't Papyrus' fault. Unperturbed by your moodiness, your skeletal brother leaped to his feet and declared,

"I will find Queen Toriel! She will know what to do! Just hold on... I will only be a second!" You didn't open your eyes to see, but you could hear the thudding of Papyrus' boots on the matted floor as he ran off. 

In the moment that followed, you worked on controlling your breathing. It was hard to take deep breaths, but you tried. You took your inhales in sharp, struggling intervals, while your exhales seemed to rush out of your body urgently. Still clutching your leg, you rolled onto your right side slowly. That eased some of the pressure on the injured hip, whatever was wrong with it...

You couldn't think of a reason why Papyrus' healing magic would fail. It never had before. He'd healed plenty of your minor injuries before, no problem. You looked down at your hip and couldn't see anything visibly wrong. It just hurt like a bitch.

"Dude, I'm so sorry," Undyne apologized again after a minute of silence. You had your back to her now, but you didn't dare roll back over to face her. The pain wasn't quite as bad in your current position.

"It's okay," you said, unsure what else you could do to reassure her. You couldn't exactly say it wasn't her fault, because it kind of was. But, at the same time, you didn't blame her. You didn't want her to feel guilty. In all likelihood, it was something to do with your condition. She probably shouldn't have suplexed you, but it wasn't her fault that you were already pre-broken.

That gave you an idea, actually. You thought you might know why Papyrus' healing had failed...

"Can you call Sans, please?" You made an effort to ask the question as politely as possible, given how short you'd been with Papyrus.

"Oh! Yeah, 'course..."

As you listened to Undyne fiddle with her phone, your stomach twisted with anxiety. While a primal, base part of you desperately needed Sans there to comfort you, another part really wished he would never have to find out about this. That was an impossibility, though. If you postponed telling him, he'd find out eventually anyway and be hurt that you hadn't called him immediately. Might as well get it over with.

Undyne barely got out the words "Reed" and "hurt" before Sans was immediately at your side. You blinked, and he was already kneeling in front of your field of view. He dropped his phone unceremoniously to clutch your shoulder tightly.

"What happened?" he growled at Undyne. Then, less aggressively, he asked you, "Are you okay?"

"My leg..." you hissed between clenched teeth. The pain was ramping up again as your racing heart slowed down and the adrenaline finally flooded out of your system. Sans shifted to move toward the leg you were holding, to which you snapped shrilly, "Don't touch it!"

"I won't, I won't..." He turned his back on your leg and began stroking your hair instead. He did the motion slowly at first to make sure you wouldn't flinch at the touch to your head, then more confidently when you didn't. The muscles in your neck and shoulders relaxed, though your breathing was still shaky and uncoordinated. 

"Why aren't you gettin' Papyrus?" Sans grilled Undyne. You came to her defense by explaining tensely,

"He was here. It didn't work."

"What d'you mean? What didn't work?"

"Something went wacky with his healing magic," Undyne jumped in from somewhere behind you, "He's getting Toriel right now."

Sans' hand stilled for a heartbeat. But her explanation seemed to satisfy him well enough, as he wordlessly lifted your head up off of the ground and shuffled sideways until you were on his lap, instead. Given that he was wearing shorts, it wasn't, strictly speaking, all that much more comfortable to lay on his bare femurs than it was to lay on the matted floor. But something about the gentleness of the gesture, combined with the chalky smell of bones, made you marginally calmer. You were finally breathing more smoothly, with only the occasional sharp, stuttering inhale whenever an injured muscle spasmed involuntarily in your thigh.

Everyone was quiet for a couple minutes, which you appreciated. You wished someone would knock you out, but the silence was as close as you were going to get. You wanted to hold Sans' hand, or otherwise increase the physical contact between you in some way. But you felt that, if you loosened your white-knuckled grip on your leg, the lack of support would only make the agony worse.

Eventually, though, Sans had to say something.

"D'you think it's dislocated, or...?"

You wished he wouldn't ask, though you didn't blame him for doing so. If the roles were reversed and he was hurt somehow, you would've been going crazy to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it. After considering your answer for a moment, you spoke in as calm a voice as you could manage,

"No. My hips are artificial... I think something broke in there. I think that's why Pap couldn't heal it. It's not organic."

Sans went quiet again after hearing your theory. You imagined he was going down the same rabbit hole of hypotheticals as you were. If you were right, then Toriel wasn't going to be able to do anything about it, either. And it wasn't like this was something that would eventually heal on its own. You'd have to go to a human doctor to get it fixed, and if something was really broken and not just popped out of place, then that would mean surgery. Just the thought of going through that whole process made you sick to your stomach. 

"We'll see what Tori can do," Sans spoke after a long pause. He didn't sound very optimistic, in your opinion.

There were a few more minutes of silence before you heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Papyrus' shrill, babbling voice carried down the cave before they even appeared around the corner.

"...don't know why this would be the case! Ever since you taught it to me, my healing magic has never failed! Have I lost my touch?!?!"

"No, dear, I am sure there is a logical explanation..." Their conversation was abruptly cut off when they rounded the corner and saw you lying on the ground. Toriel walked around to the open gate briskly, then knelt down next to you with a purpose.

"Hello, Reed. I am guessing it is your left leg?" she surmised, immediately getting down to business.

"Yeah," you replied simply, choosing not to tell her about your theory just yet. You wanted to see what she would do first.

Just like Papyrus, she laid her hands on your hip tenderly. The warm healing magic eased your twitching muscles, bringing you temporary relief. However, like before, the soothing effect disappeared the moment she retreated.

"Feel better?" Toriel asked kindly, still unaware of her failure. You winced and shook your head. Immediately, Sans launched into an explanation before you could open your mouth.

"They think somethin's wrong with the metal in their hip. Can you fix that?" Even as he asked it, you could tell by the grave tone of his voice that he already knew the answer. Toriel's brow furrowed before she slowly shook her head.

"I do not believe so. It may be prudent to take them to a human doctor, instead." She looked down at you, an apology written on her face. You suddenly felt very strongly that you didn't want to be lying prone in the middle of the arena anymore. You needed to get to someone who would get you something to numb your leg as soon as possible. You could feel your patience for the shooting pain quickly waning. Soon, you were either going to start crying or yelling at people, and you would've preferred to avoid both of those things.

"Sans..." You looked up at him pitifully, not bothering to vocalize the question. You didn't want to make him teleport you to an emergency room; the two of you showing up randomly at a hospital was bound to raise suspicion. But you didn't know what else to do.

With his teeth clenched, he nodded curtly. He shuffled out from under you, bracing your shoulders and head with one arm while the other slowly slid under your knees. You took a deep breath and held it, well aware that this was going to hurt like a bitch. Sure enough, as Sans lifted you, you felt something shift around sickeningly in your hip. Though you tried to keep your reaction to a minimum, you couldn't hold back a moan. Your hands left your leg to clutch fistfulls of Sans' shirt instead.

"I'll take 'em." You barely heard Sans' declaration to the others. Your ears were ringing and you were beginning to see black spots in your vision. Without waiting for a reply from Toriel, Undyne, or Papyrus, Sans stepped backward and disappeared with you in his arms.

***

The entire rest of that day was an endless series of waiting rooms. First in the emergency room, then in radiology, then in a private room. You were given nothing for the pain. Needless to say, it was a long night.

Sprinkled throughout all of that waiting were bits and pieces of steadily worsening news. The only bit of good luck was that Sans didn't get in trouble for being outside of camp without a pass... Not as of yet, anyway. Your entrance into the emergency room in his arms had been rather head-turning. After hastily lying through his teeth about how he'd gotten to the human hospital, Sans was, thankfully, allowed to stay with you. The story was that you'd been visiting your parents when you fell down the stairs and landed badly on your hip. Being the only other person home at the time, Sans had taken your car to drive you to the Pueblo emergency room. In his haste, he'd forgotten his pass at your house. The lie wouldn't have held up under even the most cursory of scrutiny, but Sans' frantic sincerity as he told it left no room for questions. Besides... The emergency room staff seemed tired, and no one much cared how you'd gotten there.

From there, things started going downhill. Your non-life-threatening injury meant that you had to wait your turn with everyone else, despite being in obvious pain. You didn't disagree with this, necessarily... It just sucked. It was a good hour before any progress was made at all.

After that, you were immediately sent to radiology. Getting the x-rays taken was even worse than having to sit in those uncomfortable waiting room chairs. The radiologist didn't seem to understand that you couldn't bend your leg in the way she wanted you to in order to take the pictures. She didn't seem to have a favorable opinion of monsters either, and shot Sans dirty looks whenever he so much as sighed in the background. You were impatient with people like that at the best of times, and your current situation only amplified your irritability. 

Needless to say, you were fuming with anger by the time you were led into a private room. Exhaustion was the only thing keeping you from complaining directly to the doctor when she walked in. You were glad you didn't, though. She, at least, was more sympathetic than anyone you'd interacted with thus far.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it seems you have a stem taper fracture... That means the metal connecting the head of your artificial femur to its stem completely snapped off," she explained while pointing out the fracture on the x-ray. Her gesture was unnecessary; you didn't need a doctorate to see the very obvious break. "When did you have this hip done, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I was fifteen... So 2011, I guess," you answered, feeling numb. The doctor hummed knowingly.

"Yeah... The models that were used back then are now known to have some corrosion issues. With how young and active you are, I'm surprised it lasted more than five years. I'm guessing you haven't been going to annual physicals... Your doctor would've suggested replacing these years ago."

Though you could tell she was trying not to sound accusatory, there was still the implication that this was kind of your own fault. It was true, though; you hadn't been to your regular doctor in ages. Not since falling into the Underground, at the very least. It took you a second to realize it, but there was an even more troubling implication lurking under the surface.

"Wait, so do I have to get _both_ of them replaced?" you asked, openly dismayed. It was bad enough that you'd have to have one surgery, but _two_...

"Not at the same time, obviously," the doctor tried to reassure you, though it clearly didn't work. Tears welled in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. You were already feeling overwhelmed, and this blow only made it worse. The doctor quickly backtracked by adding, "...Let's not worry about that yet. I see on your file that Dr. Lyon is the one who did your hips the first time. Would you like me to call him and see if he'd be available to fix you up again?"

You bit your bottom lip and nodded wordlessly. Sans, who had been a silent guardian at your side this whole time, finally spoke up,

"Can you get 'em somethin' for the pain in the meantime?" Right. You would've forgotten to ask about that if Sans hadn't been there. Your heart sank when the doctor shook her head.

"Unfortunately, no. We may be able to get you into surgery as early as tomorrow morning, if Dr. Lyon is up for it. We can't have you on any medication within twelve hours of the operation. In fact, I'll ask that you not eat or drink anything other than water in the meantime, as well."

Panic clawed at your throat. Tomorrow?!? You weren't ready. You needed more time to mentally prepare...

You were too caught up in your spiral of anxiety to hear Sans' bitter "thanks" or the doctor's subsequent apology and hasty promise to return to your room as soon as she had more information. Sans spent a few minutes just rubbing your arm soothingly while you worked to control your breathing. Once you were in the clear and certain that you weren't going to have an actual panic attack, you wordlessly extracted your phone from your pocket and called your parents.

You hadn't wanted to tell them about what was going on until you had more details, but now was definitely the time to do so. After you explained to them what had happened, your parents set out to meet you at the hospital right away. Mom, Dad, and Frisk arrived just in time to hear the news that Dr. Lyon was willing to come in tomorrow on a Sunday morning to do your surgery. Before your parents were allowed to take you home, it was again stressed to you that you weren't supposed to eat until then. You were instructed to come in bright and early at six in the morning and were encouraged to get a lot of sleep beforehand. As if that was ever going to happen when you weren't allowed to take anything other than tylenol for the pain.

Despite this limitation, your parents pulled out all the stops to make you as comfortable as possible. Although the car ride home had been awkward as Mom grilled you and Sans to get the details on what had really happened (until that point, she and Dad had only gotten the fake version, which they played along with confusedly), they knew what to do for you in situations like these. You loved Sans, but he couldn't compete with Mom's meticulous pillow arrangements that propped your leg up just right, nor could he ease your worries about tomorrow's surgery like your dad could. It was during a quiet moment in the car that Dad had spoken up to remind you of how well your previous hip replacements had gone, so there was nothing to worry about. His confidence, whether real or fabricated for your benefit, was an instant balm to your anxiety.

Once Mom, Dad, and Frisk entered the equation, Sans became your silent shadow. He was always by your side, but never said much of anything. He didn't ask your parents if he could stay over with you, and they didn't offer. It was just assumed between all parties. He didn't speak much at all around your parents and Frisk except to emphatically confirm that he wanted to be in the waiting room with Mom and Dad while you were under the knife tomorrow. 

After the logistics had been discussed, you and Sans were left alone in the guest bedroom to hopefully get some shuteye. Before that, though, you had several calls to make. The two of you split up the work between you; Sans won the rock-paper-scissors game and got to call Toriel to update everyone on the mountain as to what the doctor had said. Meanwhile, you had the displeasure of calling Reives to inform him that Sans would be in Pueblo with you for several days, with or without a pass. 

Thankfully, the agent was surprisingly understanding. You hadn't even expected him to answer; he'd given you his personal cell number ages ago to call in case of emergencies, but you'd never used it until now. Not only did he pick up the phone, but he agreed to give Sans a multi-day pass which he could pick up from Charlie tomorrow morning.

Your conversation with Reives lasted exactly as long as Sans' talk with Toriel. You both hung up your respective phones at the same time. Sans took yours from you and set it on the nightstand before crawling under the covers with you. He sidled up to you hesitantly, careful not to jostle you at all. You let out a small sigh when he wrapped an arm around your stomach.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"As much as I'll ever be," you replied truthfully. Your leg was propped up in just the right way to make it the least painful, but it still ached terribly. Of course it did... Shards of broken metal were cutting into delicate nerves and muscles with every move you made. The doctor had recommended remaining as still as possible, which was hard to do when you were used to rolling around and fidgeting a lot in your sleep. You were already sick of laying on your back, though you didn't dare try switching positions.

"This really sucks," Sans said, which made you laugh-snort. That was the understatement of the century. Sans wasn't laughing, though. "I'm sorry you're hurting."

"It's okay," you murmured, though it certainly wasn't. The pain of your broken hip didn't bother you as much as the thought of tomorrow's procedure...

"You know I'll be with you through the whole thing, right?" Sans reassured you, as if he could read your mind. You wished you could turn on your side and properly embrace him, but you had to settle for awkwardly sliding your arm under his shoulders. Quietly, you corrected him,

"Not in the operating room." Behind your raspy whisper lurked a barely-hidden fear. Your parents had been able to distract you from it briefly but, in the dark guest room, it was starting to bubble back up to the surface.

You were scared. You didn't want to go under the knife. Logic would dictate that it shouldn't frighten you anymore, since you'd done it so many times. But the veteran experience only made it worse. You knew firsthand that things could go terribly wrong, and you'd only suffered a few of the many horrifying possible complications that could arise anytime someone underwent anesthesia. After everything else you'd been through, it was surprisingly mundane... But one of your greatest fears was being put to sleep and never waking up.

Knowing that nothing he could say would banish your fear, Sans simply hugged you tighter and pressed his face into your shoulder. After a moment of there being no sound other than your two sets of quiet breaths, Sans spoke up.

"I wish I could do this in your place." You tilted your head sideways to lean it on his. It wasn't very comfortable.

"I don't," you declared, then added in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Could you imagine? You'd milk that broken hip for all it was worth. Your laziness would be unparalleled." 

You felt him smile into your skin. Unfortunately, when he proceeded to shift his pelvis slightly to better curl around you, he bumped your hip in a way that made pain shoot up your spine. You thought you hid it pretty well by clenching your teeth and letting out nothing more than a sharp exhale, but Sans caught it immediately.

"Sorry," he apologized while scooting back into his original position. 

"S'okay," you assured him curtly. Sans hesitated for a moment, then said softly,

"Y'know, you don't havta... downplay anything for my sake. If it hurts, you can tell me. If you wanna scream or cry, you can. I just wanna make sure you know that."

"...Mhm." You bit your lip. Your noncommittal answer betrayed your disbelief. Truthfully, you knew you couldn't do that. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was... It wasn't like Sans hadn't been caring and sweet to you when you were sick or sore since day one. But you were always just a little guarded around him. You were afraid you would come across as... What? Weak? Needy? Vulnerable? Even you didn't know why you cared so much. Sans had already seen you at your lowest points, and it wasn't like he'd ever _left_ you over it, or...

Well. That wasn't true, was it?

You didn't seriously think he'd leave you over a bum hip. But if you whined too much... Or screamed and cried... Or, even more likely, had some kind of mental breakdown tomorrow morning before surgery... You didn't know. You still didn't think he'd be anything other than supportive, but there was always that seed of doubt in your mind. Your relationship hadn't gone through anything truly devastating since Gaster. You didn't know how this would go, especially if something went wrong and this ended up being even more serious than it already was.

Sans didn't press you to talk about it anymore. After a couple minutes, he started humming. It was off-tune, but that didn't matter. He knew that the melodic sound combined with the vibrations in his chest never failed to put you to sleep, and tonight was no exception. You dozed off after a while, though the pain was destined to wake you up sporadically throughout the night.

***

The next morning, you were awoken to the smell of a breakfast you couldn't eat. You urged a groggy Sans to go downstairs and eat without you under the pretense that you wanted a few more minutes of rest. In reality, you just didn't want to be down there while everyone else was eating. Not because you were hungry, but because you already felt like you might throw up out of a combination of anxiety and physical exhaustion. Seeing food would have only made you more queasy. 

After helping you get dressed, Sans left briefly to bring Frisk to Toriel's and to pick up his surface pass. The kid had been conflicted; they were upset that they weren't allowed to go with you to the hospital, but happy that they and Chara were going to get to skip school and hang out for a few days. They made you promise them that you'd let them come and visit tomorrow before leaving amicably with Sans through a shortcut.

Once he got back... It was showtime. It was so early in the morning that it was still pitch black outside as Sans and your parents loaded you into the backseat of Mom's minivan. Mom was visibly frazzled; the short notice of this surgery was something new, since you'd always had months in advance to prepare when you were a kid. Now, Mom was scrambling to pack all of the amenities you might need for an overnight hospital stay. After watching her run in and out of the house three times as she forgot various small items, her anxiety was starting to grate on you.

"Mom... You live like, five minutes away from the hospital. It's not a big deal if you forget something."

Even after that, you still didn't get to leave for nearly another ten minutes. You barely got to the hospital when you were supposed to. However, things started moving very quickly after that. The surgical wing was basically empty; a stark contrast to the emergency room last night. You were given a wheelchair and escorted to the pre-op room almost immediately upon walking through the doors. 

Once there, Sans helped you change into a hospital gown. You were too nervous and self-absorbed at the moment to really analyze it, but you could tell already that there was going to be a lot of awkwardness between Sans and your parents during this whole ordeal. Every time you struggled with something, it was in your parents' instincts to come to your aid. But Sans was always there before them, swooping in to help you before anyone else could. You didn't much care who helped you get in and out of the car, get dressed, or whatever else. But Mom and Dad tended to hover around Sans whenever he did any of that stuff, as though they didn't trust him not to hurt you.

That was sure to come to a head later during your recovery, but you didn't have any room in your heart to worry about it yet. You already felt like the organ was going to burst out of your chest as you crept closer and closer to surgery. The gown didn't make anything better... You felt vulnerable and exposed in it. Not without reason, either. You had bad experiences involving hospital gowns. Luckily, there was a blanket on the end of the bed that Sans threw over you as soon as possible, which made you feel at least a little better. 

After that, you endured a barrage of questions about insurance, the nature of your operation, and whether you were on any medications. You had your blood pressure taken, your heart rate monitored, and an ID bracelet secured around your wrist. The procedures were all very familiar to you, yet they still made you feel sick to your stomach. By the time you were stuck with an IV in your arm and had a nurse mark your bad leg with a sharpie, you were barely holding it together.

"It'll be so quick," Mom assured you, "You won't even know what happened." You already knew that, of course. Mom never seemed to understand that it wasn't the actual getting cut into part that freaked you out... It was the falling asleep.

"Yeah... At least you don't have to sit in the waiting room for hours," Dad said, referring to the ever-depressing room where families had to sit and wait in tense silence while their loved ones went under the knife. You were lucky to never have to wait in it yourself; you were always the one being waited for. 

You looked over at Sans, who was leaning on the side of your bed, clutching the guard rails for dear life. While your fear would be over shortly, Sans was going to be in a persistent state of anxiety for the next two to three hours. 

With a grimace, you turned your hand palm-up on the bed. He took the invitation and clasped his hand in yours. You knew he could feel the trembling of your fingers by the frown that creased his face.

"Don't worry, babe... You'll be fine."

"Yeah..." you agreed without conviction. 

Before any other words of reassurance could be uttered, the door to your room opened. The instant you recognized your anesthesiologist and surgical team, your heart rate skyrocketed. Uncontrollable panic spiked your veins. You bit down hard on your own tongue to keep yourself from crying, but you couldn't stop yourself from taking sharp, gasping breaths through your nose. You hated this... You were acting like a child. There was no reason for it. 

"Ready to go, Reed?" The anesthesiologist asked in a sympathetic tone. You'd warned her ahead of time that you'd probably freak out at some point, but that didn't really make it any less embarrassing. 

"Wait, just give us a minute..." Sans said as he continued to hold your hand while rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder. You shook your head vigorously, but it took a moment for you to compose yourself enough to speak.

"No... Just... Take me. It won't... Get better..." You spoke in fragmented sentences, having to pause often to inhale sharply. There was no point in trying to get you into a calm state of mind; you were never going to be wheeled out of this room with a smile on your face. Better to just rip the band-aid off, so to speak.

Your parents understood this. On the other side of your bed, Dad ruffled your hair while Mom patted your good leg and said,

"See you soon, sweetie."

With that, they both stood aside. But Sans wasn't moving. 

Seeing the look on his face... You knew in that moment that you'd made a mistake. You should've done more to make sure he was okay. Should've prepared him better for how much this was going to suck. Or maybe you shouldn't have even let him come to the hospital today at all. 

For a second, you were certain he wasn't going to let you go. You could see it in his eyes. He was going to pick you up and whisk you away through a shortcut, despite the fact that running away would've hurt you worse in the long run. 

To your surprise, he seemed to snap out of it. You could sense the enormous effort it took for him to release his vice-like grip on you, but he did. He stuffed his hands in his pockets but, before stepping back, he leaned down and whispered in your ear,

"I love you."

That only brought you closer to tears. You sniffed, clenched the sheets on your hospital bed in your fists, and nodded tight-lipped. You didn't say it back; if you tried, it would've been blubbering and loud. But you figured he already knew, regardless.

As soon as Sans was out of the way, two assistants swooped in to unlock the wheels on your bed and start rolling you away. You looked over your shoulder one last time to shoot your parents and Sans what was doubtlessly a fearful look before you were pushed around the corner and out of sight. 

All while pushing you down a hallway and into an elevator, the assistant on your left kept up a running commentary of where you were going and what was happening. You hardly heard anything he was saying. All you could hear was the thumping of your own heart in your ears. It only got worse once the elevator doors opened. Suddenly, you were assaulted by the _smell_. You didn't even know what it was, just that all operating rooms smelled the same. Maybe a combination of antiseptic, anesthetic, and pure oxygen. For some reason, it reminded you of the void. 

Quickly, you clasped a hand over your mouth and nose. You remembered hearing somewhere that the sense of smell was the most closely tied to the brain's fear response, and you certainly believed that now. Clamping your nostrils closed helped a little, though it did earn you some strange looks from the surgical team that was following in your wake. You didn't understand how everyone wasn't gagging and running away from the smell. In your opinion, it was just as bad as the stench of a rotting corpse.

The sight of the operating room caused a violent, uncontrollable flinch which, in turn, sent a jolt of pain up your injured leg. It looked like every other operating room you'd ever been in; an ominous-looking bed in the center with huge, overhead lights looming over it. They were turned off so as not to blind you. Monitors on the walls were currently off as well, though you knew they would display your vital signs once you were out. A kind nurse had once showed you how they worked, back when you were a child who was still able to be distracted from their baseless fear.

You breathed heavily through your mouth. It took everything in you not to start swinging at the assistants when they lifted you from your more comfortable bed and transferred you to the operating table. Once there, you were suddenly and violently reminded of a different table. One with leather straps to hold your arms and legs down...

You tucked your elbows tightly to your sides. Your left hand was still clamped over your nose, while the right shot up to splay over your chest protectively. Afraid that you would start seeing things that weren't there, you slammed your eyes shut. Although you hadn't been hearing anything anyone was saying up until this point, you now heard your anesthesiologist's voice as it echoed too loudly in your ears.

"You indicated that you didn't want the mask put on until after you were asleep, so we're going to deliver the anesthetic through your IV instead. Are you ready?"

Somehow, you had the presence of mind to nod. You felt a cold hand slide over the back of yours on your chest. You needed someone to knock you out before you started believing it was real.

"Okay. I want you to count down from ten out loud. I bet you won't get to five." The challenge she posed fell flat on you, though she didn't seem deterred. You heard a lot of shuffling around as she and the other members of the team did whatever they needed to do to prepare. 

"Ready, and... Go."

"Ten," you began the count obediently, your voice sounding funny with your nose pinched closed. The hallucinated, skeletal fingers slotted between yours, brushing the fabric of the hospital gown covering your skin. You shuddered and wished you could call up your magic to banish the hallucination away. But you couldn't seem to muster the energy to do even that.

"Nine." Gravity increased on you. Your limbs felt heavy. You couldn't seem to stop your hand from falling away from your nose. The scents that assaulted you triggered a whole body spasm, though the panic couldn't seem to take hold beyond that base response. Gaster's nonexistent fingers tightened around yours, pinning your other hand to your chest so it couldn't fall.

"Eight." Your head felt fuzzy. You opened your eyes a little, forgetting that you were supposed to keep them closed. You couldn't see anything, anyway; it was all just a blur of color and movement.

Your eyes eased shut again. You barely finished saying a slurred, incomprehensible version of "seven" before black unconsciousness rushed in on all sides to swallow you whole.

***

Sans let you go. He watched you be wheeled out of the room, listened to the reassurances from some of the hospital staff, then followed your parents to the waiting room without a word. He nodded along and forced himself to smile politely. But really, he was just waiting for the first opportunity to get away from everyone. 

That time came right after the kind, older lady who supervised the waiting room finished explaining how updates on the progression of your surgery would appear on the monitors mounted to the walls. As soon as she left to return to her desk, Sans turned his back on your parents and muttered a single word.

"Bathroom."

He marched out of the room with a purpose, and no one stopped him. They didn't know that monsters didn't have to use the restroom, and they didn't need to know. Regardless, though, it would become apparent that he had lied when he failed to return after five or so minutes. There was no way around that, unfortunately.

Once he felt he had wandered far enough away from the surgical wing, he started searching the shortcuts in every secluded nook and cranny he could find. Quiet hallways, storage closets, and empty waiting rooms were all fair game. He searched quickly, since time was of the essence...

Coincidentally, he found what he was looking for in none other than a bathroom. A women's bathroom, but he was none too picky. He knocked on the door and announced "custodian, anyone in here?" like he had done to other bathrooms several times already. When no one yelled back at him, he pushed the door open and walked inside with long, purposeful strides. All of the shortcuts in the room blew open at his command. One by one, they snapped closed as he found each of them unsatisfactory. After searching the sink area, he made his way to the stalls. He used blue magic to punch each of the doors open, not wanting to waste time walking up to each of them. It was in the last stall before the disabled one that he had to do a double take.

 _There_ you were. The stall was so small that there was only one shortcut in it, and it opened up directly into your operating room. The portal led out at an odd angle; Sans was looking down on you and the team of doctors huddled around you from someplace near the ceiling. With everyone gathered around you, Sans couldn't see your face. Even with this limitation, he could tell you were already out cold. You would never have been so still and calm if you were awake.

Without a second thought, Sans ducked into the stall and locked the door behind him. He had to close the shortcut for a moment to get behind it, then reopened it as he sat down cross-legged on the toilet. This was ideal... No one would ever know he was here. He was confident he'd be able to watch your surgery in full, uninterrupted.

Sans knew this was almost definitely not something you would've wanted him to do if you'd had a say. But, in his opinion, this was one of those situations where it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. You wouldn't have wanted him to see what was undoubtedly going to be a bloody, bone-chilling scene, but he couldn't _not_ watch. If something went wrong... He had to know. 

He'd long ago come to the conclusion that, if you ever were to die prematurely, he'd take your soul as his own before letting it just disappear on him. And that was all there was to it. The two of you had never specifically talked about it, but Sans was certain you planned on doing the same for him if the need should arise. Hell, you'd _already_ done it to save the both of you in the void. At this point, it was just a fact that, if one of you were to go down, the other would go with them. And then, he supposed, whatever happened next was up to Orion.

So he had to watch, just to make sure. Not that he thought you were going to die... But the possibility was higher today than it was on any normal day. He'd gone on your phone after you'd fallen asleep last night and spent hours pouring over articles on the dangers of surgery. He had no prior experience on the matter, though he had plenty of second-hand memories from you to draw on. That, combined with the research he'd done online, only made him more worried about all of the things that could possibly go wrong.

It seemed crazy to him that you could ever be _better off_ after being cut into by some doctor, but that was the way humans did things. But monster healing methods had failed to fix you, so he didn't doubt that this surgery was necessary. He just wished there was a safer way. Maybe a combination of medicine and magic, like what you, Tori, and Paps had done to bring your previously dead body back to life years ago...

An idea for the future, maybe, but not something that could've been pursued for you at the current moment. Nor did Sans give a rat's ass about what could theoretically be achieved by combining human and monster knowledge when his partner was currently in the process of being cut open with a scalpel. 

Truthfully, Sans couldn't see much of what was going on. He clutched the edge of the toilet seat tightly every time he caught a glimpse of a bloodied glove or tool, but there was always someone blocking his view of your hip. He worried that, if something _did_ go wrong, he wouldn't even be able to tell. Sound didn't transmit through shortcuts, so all he got was a shitty, spherical impression of what was happening to you across the building. He couldn't even read the facial expressions of the doctors and assistants, since they were all wearing masks. Still, he had to believe that he would just _know_ if things took a turn for the worse. 

If they did... He would have to do something. He hoped it wouldn't come down to that.

After a few minutes of sitting statue-still, the bathroom's motion sensing lights turned off on him. Sans didn't bother waving his arms to get them to turn back on, but simply sat in the pitch darkness as he watched over your unconscious form from afar.

***

You awoke slowly from your dreamless sleep. It was a struggle... As if you had to drag yourself out of muddy waters. When you did break the surface, it was to the smell of iodine and the sound of steadily beeping monitors.

The beeping increased in tempo as you become more and more conscious of your surroundings. You were cold and uncomfortable. Not in any tremendous pain, but you just felt off. There was a fog in your mind blocking your understanding of what was going on, and you couldn't seem to get around it. Your throat was sore, there were things clamped to your fingers and sticking out of your skin, and you smelled all wrong. 

"Hi there, Reed." A voice at your side prompted you to turn your head and open your eyes a crack. Your vision was clear. Almost too sharp. It made you feel dizzy. 

"Can you hear me?" A man dressed in scrubs stood at the side of your bed with a clipboard. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a raspy groan. He seemed to take that as a yes.

"You're in the recovery room right now. Are you in any pain?"

Though it only made you dizzier, you turned your head so you could see the rest of the room. You were bordered by curtains on all sides, though you could hear other patients and nurses talking and shuffling around. By the way the noises echoed, you got the impression that the room was quite large. It made you anxious that you couldn't see most of it... And even more so once you heard the person behind the curtain to your left moaning, presumably in pain. 

"Sans..." you croaked. Although you had understood it, you ignored the question that had been posed. "I want Sans..."

"We'll take you to your family soon. For now, could you rate your pain for me on a scale of zero to ten?" He paused for you to answer. However, after a minute, he must've assumed by the blank look on your face that you weren't going to respond. "Okay... I'll ask again in a little bit when you're more awake."

With that, he dropped the clipboard, which was attached by a chain to your bed. You were left alone for a while after that, still struggling to process what was going on. You felt like you were going to go crazy if you had to listen to the moans of the person next to you or the pitiful cries of a child further down in the room for much longer. You did, however, slowly begin to regain lucidity. Enough that you realized you were whimpering Sans' name over and over again, and had the presence of mind to stop.

When the nurse returned to your bedside, he smiled at you kindly and asked, "Feeling better?"

"A little," you mumbled, still feeling quite dizzy and tired. The nurse picked up your clipboard and tried his previous question again,

"Could you rate your pain on a scale of zero to ten, please?" You sighed. You didn't know. You always had such a hard time with this question, and you knew you were going to be asked it a lot in the next couple days.

"I dunno... Zero." You didn't really feel much of anything from the waist down. You were sure that was the epidural doing its thing. You didn't know if your dry, aching throat was supposed to count toward the pain scale. The nurse nodded and wrote something on a clipboard.

“Good to hear…” He kept writing things down, flitting between the IV bag at your side and the beeping monitor. You tried to lift your head up, but found that it was too heavy to move. Instead, you simply followed his movements with your eyes, giving up whenever he left your field of view.

“Did it go good?” you asked, your speech still slightly slurred. You were starting to remember now why you’d needed surgery this time in the first place.

“Yup! Everything went perfectly. No complications. I’m sure your surgeon will come and talk to you about it once we get you settled in your room.”

You sighed again, this time in relief. There was nothing worse than waking up and hearing that something had gone wrong. With that out of the way, your primary concern returned to getting back to Sans.

“When can I see him?” you asked, forgetting that the nurse couldn’t read your mind and didn’t know who you were talking about. Still, he answered without skipping a beat,

“We’ll get you back with your family as soon as we’re sure you’ve fully recovered from anesthesia. Shouldn’t be too long now.”

You grunted in affirmation, then again when the nurse announced he was going to leave you to check up on some other patients. Once alone, you simply stared up at the light on the ceiling and tried not to be sick. You felt like you were constantly right on the edge of throwing up. You attempted to distract yourself by playing with the heart rate monitor, which was basically the only thing you could do without moving at all. You willfully altered your breathing to slow the beeping down or speed it up. That mild amusement was about all the excitement you could take at the present moment, so it was the perfect game to play while you waited for some strangers to decide when you were allowed to go see your parents and Sans.

Finally, after an indeterminable amount of time, two other nurses who you'd never seen before appeared at your bedside. One of them asked you to rate your pain again while the other unlocked the wheels on your bed. When she announced she was going to take you up to your room, you smiled for the first time since waking up. You were methodically disconnected from everything save your IV bag, which was pushed alongside you by one of the nurses while the other steered your bed.

After a short walk and elevator ride, you were brought into your room at last. For an inpatient hospital room, it was pretty nice. Small, but at least you didn't have to share with anyone. A big window that took up the majority of the back wall revealed flurries of snow flying by at a sharp angle. The weather must've taken a turn for the worse while you were out.

In front of the window stood Sans, who appeared to have been in the middle of pacing. He looked up, and his expression smoothed over at the sight of you. You grinned and waggled your fingers at him, which was about the most enthusiastic greeting you could muster at the moment. The nurses didn't even get the chance to finish sliding your bed in place before Sans was at your side, getting in their way. 

"Hey," he greeted you while scooping your hand up in his. However, he had to let go five seconds later as one of the nurses nudged him aside to attach a new heart rate monitor and oxygen reader to your fingers. 

"Hi," you said back to him in a scratchy, rough voice. Your gaze then turned to your mom and dad, who were being more cooperative by standing aside so the nurses could do their thing.

"How are you feeling, baby?" Mom asked, to which you gave her a weak thumbs up. She laughed, obviously relieved. Dad returned your thumbs up with a smile.

Sans stubbornly remained at your side, forcing the nurses to work around him as they continued hooking you up. One of them stopped bustling around to explain to you,

"This is the help button," They held up a remote with a red button on it, which they then placed next to your hand on the bed, "It'll call one of us into your room. Please don't be afraid to use it... We're happy to help." They paused and waited for you to nod before pointing to a yellow button near the IV bag.

"I know you said you weren't experiencing any pain but, if you do, you can press this button here to dispense more morphine into your IV. The system won't let you overdose, so don't worry about pressing it too many times. Just go ahead and use it whenever you need it."

"I won't need it," you mumbled petulantly. You were very familiar with the morphine button. As a challenge to yourself, you always tried to press it as few times as possible. The last time you'd had a surgery, you hadn't pressed it at all. You were determined to maintain that record.

"Well, it's there if you do," the nurse retorted, undeterred by your comment. The other nurse, who had been fiddling with something on the vital sign monitoring machine you were hooked up to, turned and asked,

"Is there anything you need from us right away?" You shook your head, though your mom piped up from the corner,

"Ice chips." You rolled your eyes. Your mom always pushed to get you eating and drinking as soon as possible. She knew that, the quicker you started eating normally, the quicker you'd be released from the hospital. In retrospect, you always appreciated her trying to get you out of there ASAP, but in the moment it tended to be irritatingly pushy. 

"Sure thing," the nurse replied pleasantly before they both walked around your bed and exited the room.

"How're you feelin'?" Sans repeated your mom's question as soon as the door clicked shut. Carefully, he took your hand in his again, his fingers even trembling with the effort of being as gentle as possible. You tried to reassure him by squeezing his fingers, but your grip strength wasn't up to par yet. The weak attempt was probably only more concerning than if you'd just remained limp.

"Good. Just tired," you said in a raspy voice. Your eyes were already half-lidded; you had only just woken up, but now that you were with Sans and your parents, all you wanted to do was sleep again. Sans crouched down, rested his forearms on your bed, and said quietly,

"Then go to sleep. We'll still be here when you wake up."

Getting permission from Sans seemed to trigger something subconsciously in your mind. The instant he said it, your eyes closed the rest of the way. You fell back into a heavy sleep, at ease now that you knew you were safe and in good hands.

***

That first day in the hospital was one of the longest of Sans' life. He didn't know how your parents could've possibly endured days like that time and time again in your youth. He knew from having seen your perspective that the first day after a surgery was spent mostly in a drugged haze; you didn't tend to remember much of it. But, from the perspective of someone not lying on the hospital bed, Sans was simultaneously bored out of his mind and constantly on edge. 

You slept on and off. When you weren't sleeping, you weren't yourself. You were groggy, confused, and often lost the thread of even the simplest of conversations. Sometimes, you would stare off into space or say weird things that didn't have anything to do with what anyone was talking about. It freaked Sans out... Made him think that something was wrong. Of course he'd expected you to be a little loopy, but for the entire day? It didn't seem normal.

The other sucky thing was your mom and dad. Before today, Sans couldn't recall a time when he'd ever been alone with them, and for good reason. It was awkward. Sans had no idea how to navigate the familial feelings he had toward them while still being respectful of the fact that they were his partner's parents. That respect was probably at least a little damaged at the moment, given that he'd disappeared for hours during your surgery without so much as offering an explanation upon his return.

He didn't know how to act around your mom and dad, and the feeling was clearly mutual. Your mom tried to make awkward small talk with him during the times when you were asleep, which went over like a lead balloon. When Sans was anxious, he clammed up. He wasn't able to overcome that to give anything more than curt, one-word answers to your mom's conversation starters. Meanwhile, your dad was like a ghost in the corner. He didn't try to speak to Sans, though Sans did catch him a couple times staring at his right hand, which was holding yours. He wasn't sure what to make of that... If he should back off, or not. He ended up staying right where he was, simply because every time you woke up, you'd notice your joined hands as if for the first time and give him a soft, dopey smile. 

Sans only left the room once, and that was to call Toriel to relay the news that the surgery had gone smoothly. The same went for your parents; your dad left once to call someone, but otherwise neither of them left your side all day. So when dinnertime came around, it was only fair that your mom take a turn leaving to fetch everyone something to eat.

"Do you want something from the golden arches, Sans?" she asked him as she stood up and pulled on her winter coat. For having passed on lunch, Sans wasn't all that hungry. But he figured he should probably eat something, anyway. You were asleep currently, but you'd be upset if you woke up to find him skipping meals.

"A burger and fries would be fine, thanks," he said without looking up from watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

"Will do." Your mom turned to Dad, who was snoring lightly on the too-small couch. She tsked and waved her hand dismissively. "I already know what he'll want. Be back as soon as possible." Sans hummed in affirmation, then added as an afterthought,

"Drive safe." It was, after all, still snowing on and off. He'd never driven a car before, but he knew the activity was more dangerous in this weather. Your mom hesitated on her way out the door when she heard him say that, but she seemed to decide not to speak whatever was on her mind. Instead, she left Sans alone in the room with two sleeping humans.

After that, the only sound in the room was your dad's breathing. For several minutes, Sans alternated between watching the rhythmic patterns of the heart rate monitor at your bedside and rubbing circles into the pale skin on your arm. The only slight issue with your surgery was that you'd lost more blood than usual... Which, according to Dr. Lyon, was part of the reason you were so tired. He was hemming and hawing over whether to give you a transfusion, but was waiting to see how you would do after the first twelve hours. 

Sans checked the clock on the wall. That timeframe had to be coming up soon, didn't it? He couldn't wait for you to be alert and chatty again. Those vacant stares you'd been giving him when you were awake were worrying. It reminded him of the dissociative episodes you used to experience often. That particular problem rarely ever reared its ugly head anymore, but Sans still remembered the most difficult times as if they'd happened yesterday. This drugged, blood-deprived version of you was a little too similar to that for comfort.

He was jolted out of his wandering thoughts by a tight grimace that suddenly plagued your sleeping face. Your fingers twitched as you whimpered a little in your sleep. You didn't wake up from it, but Sans was all too familiar with what you looked like when you were in pain. Even though you weren't conscious, it still tugged on Sans' heartstrings to know you were hurting.

Suddenly remembering something the nurse had said, Sans turned to look at your IV. The chair he was sitting in creaked as he leaned back to reach for the yellow button. He knew you well enough to know that you wouldn't want more painkillers. You were stubborn like that. But he wasn't going to watch you be in pain, so the choice was easy. 

"Don't."

Sans jumped. It was difficult to scare him, but hearing your dad's threatening tone of voice managed to do it. When he looked up, he saw your dad still leaning back on the couch, though his eyes were now open and staring intensely at Sans. His thumb was still over the button, though he didn't press it just yet.

"They're hurtin'..." he argued weakly. Really though, he knew your dad had the moral high ground in this case. It was wrong to put anything in your veins that you didn't want in there. Especially when you already had trust issues when it came to your bodily autonomy... For good reason. 

Surprisingly, that wasn't the angle Dad decided to debate from.

"There's a reason there's a button instead of a constant, steady drip of morphine. Studies show that giving people control over their own pain management actually reduces pain... Sometimes more than the drugs, themselves. So if you take control away from Reed, it'll only cause them more pain in the long run."

Sans blinked, stunned not only by the information, but by the fact that your dad had shared it at all. He didn't think your dad had ever said as many words to him at once before. Slowly, his hand lowered from the button, leaving it unpressed.

"That makes sense," he conceded, his eyes lowering in shame. The reason for the button, while thought-provoking, was irrelevant, anyway. He should've respected your wishes regardless of whether he thought it was best for you or not. That was something he was still working on, and probably would be for a while yet.

"It's pretty interesting. I'm not nearly smart enough to read all of that science-y research, but you should look into it."

The implied compliment to his intelligence was so unexpected that Sans huffed an uncontrolled laugh under his breath. Had you bragged him up to your parents, or something? The fact that he was only a month away from graduating and being considered "Dr. Sans" in the eyes of the Underground was really not any sort of accomplishment. He hoped your dad didn't think he was some kind of genius. Even so, he was sincere when he said,

"If I can get my hands on it, I will."

The silence that fell over them after that didn't feel as awkward as usual. Your dad sat up straighter and started reading something on his phone, while Sans simply continued watching you sleep. When you woke up, he convinced you to suck on some ice chips. He even got you to nibble on some of his fries when your mom returned with the food, though you were destined to throw it up undigested less than an hour later.

When a nurse came to check on you and you scored your pain at a four, Sans clenched his teeth together to keep from insisting that you press your painkiller-dispensing button. If you said it was a four, then it was probably really an eight. But... If you didn't want extra morphine, then that wasn't his business.

While the nurse was talking to you, Sans glanced over at your dad, who winked at him. He still didn't know how to interpret that.

***

After much ado amongst nurses and doctors, it was decided that you would get a unit of blood overnight. You weren't in life-threatening danger from the blood loss, but there were complications that were beginning to snowball from your perpetual exhaustion and disorientation. The main problem was that you were finding it difficult to eat or drink. Your inability to keep anything down was preventing you from checking off all of the other boxes that were required for you to be considered healthy enough to go home. The hope was that giving you blood would make you more alert and less nauseous. 

You didn't really comprehend any of this until after it was all said and done. You vaguely remembered seeing the bag of blood being hooked up to your IV line, but otherwise you had no memory of any part of that debate. In fact, you remembered very little about that first day at all. You didn't truly feel like you'd woken up until very late that night... Or early the next morning, depending on how you wanted to think about it. 

When you did wake up, there was a marked difference in your alertness, which was both a blessing and a curse. You were now much more aware of your own discomfort. Your noncommittal threes and fours on the pain scale turned into strained fives and sixes. You considered hitting the morphine button, but you knew it would only make you drowsy and sick again. Better to just tough it out, at least until you were able to digest something.

That restraint ended up paying off, as you were able to eat a half-decent breakfast of scrambled eggs and part of a pancake. Once you showed that you were capable of keeping food down, the nurses really started pushing you toward getting well enough to go home. 

The next step was getting you on your feet (or foot, as it were) for the first time, which was always an ordeal. After breakfast, you practiced this by first having your mom, Sans, and a nurse help you sit up straight and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Even that simple change in positioning caused your head to spin. Moving your bad leg even that much made it twinge sharply enough that you finally gave in and pressed the button to give yourself an extra shot of morphine through your epidural. But, according to the nurse who'd been helping you, it had gone well enough that she thought you'd be able to stand by mid-afternoon. She explained to you that a team of three would come in to help you up and show your family how to do the same in the future. In the meantime, you were settled back into bed and advised to keep eating and drinking.

However, you soon found that you may have followed that advice a little too dogmatically. Dutifully, you ate the crackers, pretzels, and jello your mom put in front of you. You took a nap after that, but were awoken from it soon after by your bowels rolling to an almost sickening degree. A catheter was keeping you from having to take a piss, but that didn't stop you from needing to use the bathroom for... the other reason.

" _Dad_ ," you hissed, your teeth clenched. Mom and Sans had their heads down, presumably napping along with you, while your dad was watching football on the muted T.V. He looked over at you, his brow already furrowed with concern. Before he could ask, you confessed, "I gotta go to the bathroom." 

"Oh..." He looked from you, to the door, to the clock. "Well, that team's gonna come in and help you stand in an hour. Can you hold it until then?"

"No," you said bluntly. Dad bit his lip before whispering back to you,

"I mean, it'd probably be easiest if you went now and just had someone clean it up..."

" _I am not shitting on the bed, Dad!_ "

Your mortified declaration woke Sans and Mom up. While they were both still blinking drowsily, Dad reached over Sans to pick up the remote on your bedside table. He pressed the red button to call a nurse, leaving you with the task of explaining to your mom and boyfriend why you'd woken them from their much-needed slumber.

You knew you would be unbelievably embarrassed about this soon, but the call of nature was too strong for you to think about anything else at the moment. You'd almost gotten your legs over the side of the bed by yourself by the time Sans was awake enough to understand what you were doing. He lurched forward to support your leg before your foot could drop off of the bed, which probably would've been excruciating. You didn't really care, though. You were determined to make it to the bathroom.

The nurses' shifts must've changed, because the guy who entered your room was a stranger to you. He seemed confident in what he was doing though, since he took charge of the situation immediately after your dad explained to him what was going on. 

"Okay... Which of you is going to be helping Reed the most on a day-to-day basis?" he asked while grabbing and unfolding the walker that had been propped up against the back wall for future use. He did all of this very quickly... You suspected he wanted you to make it to the bathroom just as much as you did. 

"Me," Sans piped up immediately, still propping your left leg up while crouched awkwardly at your bedside. Your parents didn't argue... Not that the nurse gave them the chance to.

"You're going to help me, then."

With that, the nurse began to explain to both you and Sans what to do. You had most of the hard work, really. Sans was only there to catch you in case you couldn't support your own weight. You took several deep breaths through your nose while listening to the nurse explain how to use the walker to help yourself stand. You really didn't need the walkthrough, but it was helpful to have the moment to gather yourself, anyway. You knew from experience that this was going to be painful, but you had to just accept that upfront.

You surged up more quickly than you probably should've. The sudden change in the angle of your hip sent agonizing stabs of protest through your leg. You cried out once wordlessly, but otherwise tamped down on the many expletives you wanted to utter. Blood drained out of your face, leaving you suddenly cold and dizzy. Sans' hand tightened around your upper arm, but you didn't end up needing him to catch you this time. Instead, you leaned heavily on the walker, your knuckles white and your elbows locked in place.

Under the nurse's instructions, you slowly began to inch your way toward the bathroom. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice much other than the nurse's advice and Sans' hand on your arm. You did look up at your parents once briefly when you were about halfway across the room. Mom gave you an encouraging smile, but Dad didn't even seem to notice you were looking at him. He was staring at your bad foot, which you struggled to hold up behind you so that it wouldn't drag on the ground. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but you could see from the outline of the fabric that they were curled into tight fists. 

Finally, you made it into the bathroom. The nurse told Sans where to hold you so that he could lower you down gently, which he did with extreme care. With that, the nurse shut the door and told you to holler when you were done, leaving you alone in the tiny bathroom with just Sans and your bulky IV stand.

 _That_ was when the embarrassment hit. If your cheeks weren't so drained of blood, they would've flushed with color. You were used to needing help in the bathroom for a at least a few days after a major surgery; it just came with the territory. But you weren't used to needing that help from Sans. It was very rare for either of you to get embarrassed around each other for any reason... Unprecedented, even. But it seemed you finally found something that crossed the line. With your arm propped up on your walker, you bowed your head and buried your face in the crook of your elbow.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled into your skin, mortified as you relieved yourself. You kind of wanted to cry, though you weren't sure if it was just the present situation or a cumulation of all the stress you'd been under in the past 48 hours. Regardless, it would've been even more mortifying to start crying _while_ on the toilet, so you bit your tongue and squinted your eyes as if to hold the tears in.

"Don't be," he said quietly, but confidently. You felt his fingers card through your hair soothingly. "I don't mind. I wanna help."

"You didn't sign up for this..." You should've warned him somehow. Before you'd ever gotten involved, even way back in the Underground, you should've told him how much of a burden you'd be on him. And it would only get worse as time wore on. Your condition wasn't one that would improve over time, to put it lightly. If, by some miracle, Sans was still by your side ten or fifteen years from now, you would need even more help on a daily basis than you did now.

You weren't sure why this was all crashing down on you right now, but you couldn't stop it. Bitterly, you said to the tiled floor, "Don't you wish you'd soul-bonded with someone who wasn't a cripple?"

"No," Sans denied immediately, his hand now resting between your shoulder blades. 

"Why not?" you challenged, though you still kept your head down. You thought it absurd that he would try to claim that he didn't wish you weren't disabled. As if he _wanted_ to have to help you walk or go to the bathroom.

"Cuz they wouldn't be you," he said simply, but elaborated before you could argue, "I'd do anything for you... I'd cut off my right hand if you needed me to. Believe me, helpin' you sit down and stand back up in the bathroom is nothin'." He crouched down so that his face was right next to your ear, then said lowly, "...And I know you'd do the same for me. So just... Try to see it from my perspective before you go puttin' yourself down like that." 

You didn't look up, despite the fact that he was clearly trying to get you to. This wasn't the first time Sans had used that logic on you. The problem with it was that, although you would in a heartbeat, you'd never actually been put in a position where you _had_ to sacrifice much for him. Not to the extent that he did for you. You couldn't help but to wonder how long it would take for him to realize the inequity of the situation and get fed up with it...

Sans sighed a little when he realized he wasn't convincing you. "You'll see. It'll be okay," he said, and that was that.

***

That night, your parents left to sleep in their own beds. You'd suggested it, and Sans was surprised when both your mom and dad had agreed. The fact that they trusted him to watch you for the night felt significant.

Once they left and the second shift nurse made her last visit to your room, Sans shot you a mischievous smirk and lowered the guard rail on your bed. As soon as you realized what he was doing, you snorted.

"I don't think you're supposed to climb in bed with the patients." Despite what you said, you scooted over a bit and held the blanket up for him. Sans slid under the covers and turned to face you.

"Someone's gonna come in here and yell at you," you continued to protest in a disinterested monotone as you wiggled closer to him and pressed your face into his chest. You wrapped an arm low around his pelvis and pulled him into you. Sans let himself be manipulated; when he was this close to you, he was afraid to move lest he bump into your hip or accidentally pull out an IV. 

A fierce wave of protective affection warmed Sans' bones as you snuggled into him. It was a night and day difference from last night, when you wouldn't have been lucid enough to even realize he was in bed with you. Sans petted your hair, not caring that it was a bit greasy from having not been washed for a couple days. His touch was slow and cautious at first as he watched to see if you were going to flinch. When you didn't, he continued combing your hair with his fingers, the motion soothing for both you and him. He was always careful about touching your head; even though you'd long ago told him you wanted him to start doing it again, it still freaked you out on rare occasions. The last thing he wanted to do was make you jump and possibly cause yourself pain.

You sighed a little, then mumbled a soft "I love you," into his shirt. He relayed the sentiment back to you without thought. From there, no more words were spoken. It only took you a couple minutes to fall asleep.

Sans continued stroking your hair long after you went limp. It wouldn't be long now before you were ready to come back home and sleep in your own bed. You might even be back by tomorrow night, if all went well. Sans couldn't wait... He was already counting down the days until you'd be back to feeling one hundred percent. Not only did it make his soul hurt to see you in pain, but he hated the emotional toll it was taking on you, too.

That short conversation in the bathroom had come out of nowhere for Sans. He'd been trying to decipher the meaning of it all evening. You couldn't seriously be concerned that he'd leave you for someone more able-bodied, could you? The idea was absurd to him. He'd never even thought about what things might've been like if you weren't disabled; it was just a part of the Reed package, and that was that. He couldn't pick and choose parts of you that he loved... It was all or nothing, and he would happily take it all.

But somehow, Sans didn't think that was really the issue. You'd never been ashamed of your physical condition in the past, and he didn't see why you'd start now. The problem had to run deeper than that. 

...Maybe you still didn't fully trust him not to leave again. The idea sent a pang of sadness through Sans' chest, but now that he'd thought it, he couldn't un-think it. He'd been under the impression that he'd proven himself to you on several occasions now. But no matter what he did, you still seemed to have moments when you'd doubt his commitment to you. Passing you off onto Undyne and Alphys three years ago had done more lasting damage to your trust in him than he ever could've anticipated at the time.

In another life, Sans would've given up on it. Would've accepted the fact that you were never going to fully believe in him again. But these days... He had a little more hope. If he had to prove himself to you a hundred times over, he'd do it gladly. One day, you'd see that he wasn't gonna disappear again when times got tough.

His hand stilled on your head as that train of thought came to a resolute end. He scooted down on the bed carefully so as not to wake you. When he was level with you, he pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. He'd originally intended to vacate your bed once you fell asleep, but screw it. If a nurse was going to come in and find the two of you cuddling, then so be it.

***

When you were released from the hospital the next day, you were greeted on the mountain by an enthusiastic and, in one case, extremely apologetic welcoming party. Undyne was the first to find you and swear on her life that she was never going to suplex anyone ever again. You reassured her several times that it wasn't her fault; your artificial hip had been faulty, anyway. The doctor had said that it was only a matter of time before it broke. In fact, it was probably a blessing that it had happened in the company of friends, rather than sometime when you were alone.

Undyne and your other friends were distracted from their pitying condolences once you whipped out your x-rays and explained the surgery process. The monsters all thought it was wild that humans could knock someone out, cut them open, and reconstruct their bones in such a way that made them better off in the long run. You had a circle of enraptured listeners gathered around you while you sat on the couch with your leg propped up on the coffee table, using elaborate hand motions to explain your own past surgeries as well as other crazy things humans could do with modern medicine.

In all of the excitement, you completely forgot about Sans for a few minutes. That was, until he appeared out of nowhere to slide a plate onto your lap. You smelled the food before you saw it; tomato soup and grilled cheese. You remembered, then, how you'd lamented about missing home-cooked food earlier that morning while eating your shitty, hospital breakfast. You'd been specifically craving tomato soup... You hadn't thought Sans was even listening to your whining, let alone that he'd remember it hours later. You looked up at him and beamed like you'd just been given the best gift of your life.

"Thanks, love." He smiled back and winked at you before turning around, about to walk away. Before he could, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him down onto the couch with you. A little bit of soup sloshed out of the bowl and onto your pants in the process, but it was worth it to hear Sans laugh and settle in next to you while you ate your lunch and continued your conversation with everyone else.

***

The next several days saw you struggling to find a healthy, comfortable balance with your pain meds. You knew how easy it was to get dependent on opiods, so you were always very strict with yourself on when you could take them and how many you were allowed in a day. Your dad called almost daily to remind you of the schedule, too, which only added to your stress over the matter. 

At any rate, you felt pressure - mostly internally - to start weaning yourself off of the pills almost immediately. This didn't go so well when, as you should've been able to predict, you continuously put yourself in situations where the pain was too much to bear. Then, you'd be forced to take a pill off-schedule, and the stress and guilt that came with that continued to compound.

Sans never tried to tell you when you should or shouldn't take your pills. He was, however, there to comfort you either way when you needed it. The night exactly one week post-hospital was one of those where you had taken too few pills and were struggling with when to take the next. You certainly needed some comforting.

Like always, you stood to the side with your crutches while Sans prepped the bed for sleeping. When he was done pulling the covers back, you hobbled over to him and handed your crutches over silently. While he propped them against the headboard, you sat down. You clenched your teeth as your hip twiged with the changing position, but you managed not to make a sound. By the time Sans turned back around, your face was schooled into a carefully neutral expression.

You couldn't keep up the charade for much longer, though. Sans was patient as he helped you find the least painful sleeping position. You tried many different methods of propping up your leg, but every angle you tried seemed to be uncomfortable in a new, but equally distracting way. Eventually, you settled with laying on your right side with a pillow between your knees, but that compromise was simply the lesser of many evils. You weren't going to be able to eliminate the throb in your hip without taking painkillers, which you couldn't do right now if you wanted to be able to take any in the morning...

"S'this good?" Sans mumbled, his arm coming to rest on your waist as he spooned you. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers together. Despite your vice-like grip on his hand saying otherwise, you hummed through tight lips,

"Mhmm."

Though he did so silently, you felt Sans' ribcage expand and contract behind you as he sighed. Using slow, repetitive motions, he stroked your thumb with his. You felt his breath tickle the hair on the back of your head as he asked,

"What can I do?"

The question felt loaded. It sounded like it meant something more significant than what you were picking up on. You replayed it in your head, but you couldn't dig up the deeper meaning, if it existed. Abandoning the venture, you took the question at face value and replied honestly,

"I know you just laid down, but an ice pack might help..."

You didn't need to say any more. Carefully, Sans extracted himself from behind you and slipped out of bed. You held onto his hand for as long as you reasonably could before letting his fingers slide apart from yours. As soon as he left the room, you let out a shaky breath you'd been holding into your pillow. Tonight was just gonna suck, and that was all there was to it.

Although... When Sans returned with the ice pack and went right back to cuddling with you as best he could in your slightly awkward position, it started to suck a little less.

***

As a general rule, you didn't drink often. The few times you'd tried, it had gone awry to say the least. But the opportunity came up again when you and Sans were cleaning out your fridge. You'd started the task simply because it couldn't be put off any longer; the inside of the appliance was almost embarrassingly dirty. Plus, there was food in there that had either expired long ago, or was just never going to get eaten. With your limited mobility, you were given the task of sorting through the good food and the garbage while Sans wiped down the shelves with disinfectant.

"What about this wine?" You held the bottle up by the neck and shook it for emphasis. Unlike most of the questionable food items in your fridge, you remembered exactly when and how you'd come about this one. It had been a gift from your parents to Sans, oddly enough. A sort of "good luck on finals" present that they'd given him before his first semester exams. You remembered them sending you similar care packages when you'd been in school... Though yours had never included alcohol.

From where he was crouched on the floor, Sans twisted around to look over his shoulder. He squinted at the bottle and gave a half-hearted shrug.

"I dunno... Wanna try it tonight? If we don't drink it now, we'll just forget about it again."

Initially, you were taken aback by the suggestion. Sans knew you had mixed feelings about drinking. However, in this situation, you found yourself not unwilling to try this time. You were completely off your pain meds at this point, so you were free to drink if you wanted. And, since it was just with Sans in your own home, you couldn't foresee there being a problem. In fact, maybe it would be fun. The list of things you didn't know about Sans was extremely short, but you had to admit that you had never seen him drink before. You didn't know what he was like when he was under the influence.

"Sure... Let's give it a shot."

With that, you set the bottle of wine aside and put it out of your mind for the moment. In fact, you completely forgot about it until that night, when you and Sans were sitting down to watch a movie you'd rented. Before you could press play, Sans snapped his fingers and got up out of his seat. Curious, you listened to him struggling with something in the kitchen for a few minutes before he emerged, sheepishly holding the bottle of wine out to you.

"I can't open it."

You probably shouldn't have laughed, but you couldn't help it. He looked so dejected. You held out your hands and made a grabbing motion, to which he shuffled over to you and handed you the bottle. He was right about it being difficult to open. You still hadn't managed it in the time it took him to walk to the kitchen and return with two cups (you didn't own any wine glasses). However, you let out a wordless shout of triumph when you finally broke the seal on the cap and were able to pour out a hearty amount of white wine for each of you.

That night turned out to be the first legitimately positive experience you'd ever had with alcohol. You and Sans finished off the bottle, but it wasn't really that much when it was spread out between the two of you over the course of a nearly two-hour-long movie. It was enough to make you feel warm, tingly, and just a little dizzy, but not so much that you felt sick. You and Sans kept up a running stream of increasingly drunken commentary throughout the movie, which was quite terrible. The two of you didn't usually bother to research movies before you rented them; you just picked out ones that had the most interesting covers. 

"It wasn't even set in Paris," you complained as the credits rolled, "Why's the Eiffel Tower in the background on the cover?"

"Is it?" Sans, who was leaning on your shoulder, reached over you to grab the case from the end table. He squinted his eyes as he examined the cover art. "Huh. Yeah, that's weird."

Suddenly, you didn't care at all about the movie's cover. You were struck by how cute Sans looked when he was concentrating on something. You had always been fond of the way his brow scrunched up and his fixed smile fell as he examined a problem. But, for some reason, you found it even more endearing than normal tonight. So much so that you put your hand over the movie case, leaned forward, and planted a wet kiss on Sans' teeth. You felt his rumbling laughter under your skin.

"S'that for?" he asked lazily. You shrugged, as you didn't have a good answer. However, you didn't hear him protest when you went in for another kiss.

The two of you made out on the couch like that for a couple minutes... Until the movie's obnoxious, main menu music started blaring at you. You scrambled for the remote and hit the power button, plunging the room into both darkness and silence. Sans stared at you, his pupils seeming extra bright when they were the only light in the room.

"You look tired... Wanna go to bed?"

Now that he pointed it out, you did feel pretty exhausted. Strictly speaking, you hadn't really done much today. But you were slowly starting to go back to work after having been on leave for a while, and you supposed that extra hassle of having to deal with politics and stubborn FBI agents again was taking its toll. 

"Yeah, let's go to bed." It was kind of lame; you'd drunk all that wine and all you'd done was watch a movie. You felt like you should've done something else. You didn't know what exactly, but your college friends would've made fun of you if they knew you'd gotten tipsy with your boyfriend and all you'd done was go to sleep immediately. Then again... You weren't in college anymore. You didn't have to go out or impress anyone other than maybe Sans, who seemed fine with the way things were going.

Unfortunately, in your slightly inebriated haze, you forgot that you'd just had surgery a few weeks ago. The alcohol sure did wonders as far as making you forget about that constant, slight soreness. You started to stand up normally, then cried out when you accidentally put weight on your bad leg. 

Sans caught you as you fell back onto the couch, softening your landing with his arms. "What didja do that for?" he asked, his voice strained. You felt bad, even though you'd been the one who was hurt. 

"Forgot... Sorry," you mumbled, to which Sans barked a short, nervous laugh. 

"Want me to carry you?"

Instead of a verbal answer, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder complacently. His arms shifted under you until one was under your knees and the other was supporting your shoulders. You felt slightly lighter as he used a bit of blue magic to alleviate some of your weight. You didn't bother raising your head to watch where you were being taken; you could tell just by the sound of Sans' footsteps that he was walking into the bedroom. 

As you were being set down on the bed, you were suddenly struck by just how much Sans did for you on a daily basis. You were getting more and more independent by the day, but there were still times like this where Sans had to help you out. You often felt guilty about this, and right now you felt especially scummy.

You wanted to say something about it, but you knew Sans didn't like it when you apologized. Before you could think of some other way to phrase your insecurity over the situation, you fell asleep. By morning, you had completely forgotten about being carried to bed.

***

Gradually, you started bearing weight on your bad leg again. You went from two crutches, to one crutch, to full-time use of your cane. Per your doctor's advice, you began a physical therapy regimen, which you elected to do by yourself in your own home. Though recovery was slow, it was steady. Eventually, your life got back on track.

However, there was still something that had been looming over you for a while, and was only drawing nearer as you continued to improve. Like a dark cloud in the distance, it simmered in the back of your mind. Far enough back that Sans didn't seem to pick up on it when you shared souls. For a while, you mulled over how to bring it up. But, to your surprise, Sans beat you to the punch. 

"Your limp's gettin' better, huh?" he commented from where he sat in the kitchen, watching you walk back from the bathroom without your cane. You pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. 

"Yeah... Should be back to normal soon." Maybe, with the newly reconstructed hip, you would be able to walk even a little better than before the surgery. You didn't think that was very likely, but you could hope.

"...Gonna have to get that other leg fixed up soon then, huh?"

Ah... There it was. The dark cloud suddenly rushed in from afar, plunging you in gloomy darkness. There was still that slight issue... Your doctor had reminded you of it in your last checkup. The whole reason your artificial hip had broken was because it was made out of an inferior material that corroded over time. Your right hip would suffer the same fate eventually. Better to get it replaced now, before something went wrong again.

That was all well and good in theory, but the mere thought of going through another surgery like this again was exhausting. Just hearing Sans say that made your shoulders hunch and your mouth turn into a frown. You sighed, folded your hands on the table, and stared down at your intertwined fingers.

"Guess so, yeah." There wasn't much else to say. You had to have the procedure, and that was all there was to it. At least you'd be ready for it this time. You'd be able to pick a date... You'd be more familiar with what to expect from the recovery...

Even as you tried to convince yourself that the next surgery would be easier than this one, you felt tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You thought you kept your expression carefully neutral, but Sans saw through that right away. You heard his chair scrape on the floor as he stood up, dragged it around the table, and sat down so close to you that your knees touched.

"What're you thinkin'?" he asked quietly. You shrugged. It took a moment for you to gather yourself so you could be sure your voice wouldn't crack.

"I just don't want to do this all over again. It sucks." Instead of breaking, your voice ended up sounding too monotone. However, rather than pleading with you to open up like you thought he was going to do, Sans took it at face value. He patted your knee and said,

"I know, but it'll be okay soon. We'll get through it."

Something about his use of "we" really got to you. Your throat closed up and your hands clenched tighter around each other. Still, you stubbornly avoided looking at Sans. He squeezed your knee one more time before starting to stand up.

In a flash, your hand shot out and grabbed onto his. The strength of your grip gave him pause. Slowly, he sat back down beside you. You gasped a single deep, shuddering breath. You couldn't find it in you to completely let go and break down, but you didn't want to hold back anymore, either. After all, if you couldn't express how you were feeling to Sans, then who else was there?

For an indeterminable amount of time, Sans sat next to you... A silent pillar of strength for you to lean on when you needed to. You trusted that, in this moment at least, he wouldn't disappear out from under you. It still wasn't perfect, and might never be... But it was enough.

***  
***

What is the evidence against this stuck point?: He promised he wouldn't leave again, and he hasn't yet. People make mistakes... Just because he made one once doesn't mean he'll do the same thing again.

What can I tell myself in the future?: I can trust Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really just an excuse to write about the experience of having surgery... It's been on my mind recently. I'm excited to get back to another therapy chapter, though!

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bluewuf)   
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